


Murder & Martinis

by gigglingkat



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 1930s, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-01
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglingkat/pseuds/gigglingkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movie Remix fic based on the 1934 film <i>The Thin Man.</i> Jared had given up the life of a playboy private detective.  For the past four years he'd happily been the husband and business protege of Jensen Ackles, the millionaire head of a magnate's vast empire.  But during a Christmas vacation in NYC, his old life crashes into his new and Jared finds himself in the middle of a murder investigation.  Thankfully, Jared's got Jensen, Icarus, and martinis to help him see it through.<br/><b>Author's Notes</b>:  The original work is a "hard boiled detective" novel (like noir, but less bleak) -the narration style here owes more than a little to Rex Stout's <i>Nero Wolfe Mysteries. </i>This is a complete AU - where same sex marriage exists legally at a federal level.</p><p>This is a work of fan fiction and is no copyright infringement is intended.</p><p>
  <a href="http://spn-cinema.livejournal.com/50316.html">Now in lovely podfic version</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dramatis personae

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Thin Man](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/4248) by Dashiell Hammett. 



  
_The following names have been changed to implicate the innocent.  
_  
 **Jared Ackles:** The playboy detective had given up the name Padalecki and the lifestyle four years ago, but New York City was determined to bring them back.

 **Jensen Ackles:** The magnate's heir was eager to see his husband do some detecting, save the girl, and catch a killer. Until the bullets started flying.

 **Icarus:** A small white dog with more brains than his humans when it came to gunfire.

 **Vanessa Anderson:** A sweet young thing with a crazy family and a swell fiancé. She used to think detective stories were grand until her family ended up the center of one.

 **Zac Efron:** The swell fiancé who wasn't going to let Vanessa go without a fight.

 **Sam Anderson:** Vanessa and Milo's father whose secretary had killed his marriage. Had he finally killed her?

 **Leighton Meester:** The second wife and murder victim. This bombshell secretary had several cons feeding off Anderson's fortune. Someone finally cashed in.

 **Dawn "Mimi" Ostroff-Anderson:** Vanessa and Milo's mother, the wronged wife who was not going away quietly. Had she finally had enough of Leighton?

 **Milo Anderson:** Vanessa's brother found the idea of murder a psychologically intriguing prospect. Had he seen Leighton as a case study?

 **Ben "Mac" Edlund:** The Anderson family lawyer was responsible for keeping Leighton and the Andersons from destruction. He wasn't having a merry holiday this year.

 **Adam Baldwin:** Leighton's "former" mobster husband didn't take kindly to being set up for her murder.

 **Nicolas Lea:** The informant watching Leighton's apartment for dirt on Baldwin. He instead found himself with the key to a murder.

 **Gillian Lea** : At least, Jared was going to proceed under the assumption they'd been married. She was too deadly with a frying pan to infer anything more libelous.

 **Lieutenant Jeff Morgan:** Raised to believe that some things are wrong even if they are legal, Morgan finds he doesn't give a damn who it is that has his back when a murderer is around.

 **Chad Michael Murray** : Had no good reason to join the story but did so anyway. **  
**


	2. Wherein the Ackles Are Introduced and Jared Is *Not* a Private Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Containing scenes in a bar, and others to emphasize the perils of too much drink.  
> December 23-24, 1934

_The following story takes place in 1934 in New York City. This should not be held against either the city or the year, as they had nothing to do with it._   
_  
_   
_A Scene In A Bar, Occurring Well Into Happy Hour on December 23_

  
Jared was holding court at the bar, which was not an uncommon occurrence. His pinstripe suit was high end, his hair fashionably long, and his shoes Italian-made, but his accent was pure Texan good ol' boy. It charmed the bartenders and one of the waiters into welcoming him behind the scenes.

Jared turned on the charm to the highest level to take advantage of the opportunity. A great justice had to be set right.

"You don't _just_ shake a cocktail, boys. You gotta shake it with a _rhythm_. Now if this was a Manhattan, I'd shake it to a Foxtrot. But dry martinis _always_ get shaken to a Charleston."

He poured out the drink with sinful delight into the ready glass and placed it on the waiter's tray. The waiter was a good sort, and he formally presented the item for inspection and approval. Jared greeted the work of art with proper dignity and lifted the proffered vessel. He sniffed the bouquet and then took great care removing the olive from its silver spear. The olive's progression from spear to lips garnered a great deal of interest and attention from the surrounding men.

Ah well. He was locked into a sure thing nowadays, but it was still a thrill to command that attention at will. He downed the dry martini.

He set the glass on the bar and addressed the bartenders. "Now you try mixing one..."

Within moments, Jared was drinking the second martini of the session and the fourth of the evening. With his left hand, he held the glass lightly to his lips, leaving the right free to balance himself away from the bar at his side. He let the gin slide unobstructed down his throat, filling his throat and stomach with a pleasing warmth. He was also aware of how this pose would allow his hair to fall back and leave his throat exposed to admiration for those so inclined. And if the thought curved a smile around the glass, Jared was the only one to know.

As the glass came down, he was forced to focus on a sweet young thing peering up at him from his chest. "Well, hello," he offered.

The face, with its wide set eyes and curving mouth, was framed by dark meticulously set curls under a jaunty hat. The fashionable hound's-tooth dress was just as curvy and curly as the rest of her. The entire package was a sight to be sure, but it didn't ring any bells. Jared approved of her as a general concept, although he wasn't sure about her willingness to become acquainted with his vest.

She smiled a perfect sweet young thing smile at him. "We _do_ know each other, you know."

"Well of course we do, have for years," Jared agreed, never one to argue with a pretty smile.

It earned him a bona fide giggle of delight. "You're Jared Padalecki, aren't you?"

This sobered him slightly. "It's Ackles these days."

"You don't remember me," she said, as if it didn't bother her — a good sign on several counts. "I'm Vanessa Anderson."

The name had a memory attached. "Not that scrawny little bit — "

Jared made a vague motion towards his knees.

"Yes, that's me," Vanessa said.

"Well hello there!" Jared whooped. "How did you ever remember me?"

"Oh you used to fascinate me. A real live detective! You used to tell me the most riveting stories." She looked suddenly thoughtful. "Were they true?"

"Probably not." Jared laughed. He quite approved of the little puppy girl and wondered if she were a stray.

In apparent response to the thought, a slightly annoyed expression attached to a young man appeared, erasing any remaining fears of awkwardness. Jared drew himself up to his full height, and as the young squire's eyes were forced to travel up, the annoyance in them grew deeper.

The young squire's dinner jacket was a fine silk, and his own dark curls were not quite as tame as Vanessa's, but the attempt had been made. All in all, Jared found him a respectable matched set to Vanessa and was willing to approve of him as well.

To make it mutual, Jared turned his gaze towards Vanessa who hadn't noticed their visitor. Jared grinned his best disarming charmer.

"Uh-oh. We're to be broken apart again by fate, darlin'. Or at least an extra wheel."

  
War was avoided by a sweet young thing smile all for the newcomer. It melted away any traces of a scowl, and brought peace on earth and goodwill to Jared Ackles. Jared decided to celebrate with another round.

"Two more glasses, fellas!" he called.

"Zac," Vanessa was saying. "This is Jared Padalecki. Jared, this is Zac Efron, my fiancé."

The new allies shook on it while she continued. "Jared worked once on a case for my father."

"It's Ackles these days. But yes, I did. Yeah, some nut wanted to kill him." Jared silently toasted the world's insanity. "Say, how is your father anyway? Still the absent minded, mad scientist?"

Zac's face was noncommittal. Good man, even if he was young.

"That's actually why I came over," Vanessa said. "He's disappeared."

"Disap —"

  
"Don't say it like _that_ , darling," Zac said, giving her a quick squeeze to take the sting out. "He's away somewhere working," he explained to Jared.

"Well I can't find him," Vanessa grudgingly clarified. She turned puppy eyes to Jared. "I was hoping you might have heard."

  
"I haven't heard anything," Jared had to admit while resisting the urge to scratch behind her ears in apology. "I've been in California for the past four years. Have you tried the lawyer? Some bird by the name of..."

"Ben Edlund. I've tried him once."

Jared looked at her. "Why don't you try him twice?"

  
She looked at Zac who produced the nickel for the phone without a word. _He's going to make her a fine wife_ , Jared thought.

To prove it, as she left, Zac confided, "You know, she's got me worrying now too."

"Mustn't worry," Jared admonished while passing another Charleston shaken martini to him. "Her old man's a great guy, but — "

He tapped his forehead. "Screwy."

"ICARUS!" a deep voice cried out from the entrance. Jared couldn't stop the grin.

"Speaking of screwy."

A large stack of gift-wrapped boxes was careening into the hotel bar. Jared could make out occasional words about dogs and health and codes. The voices drew closer.

"Sir! You absolutely cannot take the dog in here."

"I'm not taking him. He's taking me!" the boxes exclaimed before gravity won the battle. The entire show crashed to the ground, and a small white dog made its way calmly from the ruins to Jared.

He picked up the dog and watched as Jensen Ackles untangled himself from the pile up on the floor. Jensen's own Italian suit and shoes matched Jared's, and with a minimum of effort, the outfit was restored to its impeccable natural condition. Within moments the only sign of chaos to be found in Jensen's appearance was a slightly crooked tie, a flushed face and slightly mussed hair.

The flush brought out the freckles along his nose and made his green eyes bright. It also brought a fullness to his mouth, which in addition to the hair, created a picture that took Jared's breath away slightly.

As if he sensed the scrutiny, Jensen straightened his tie and retrieved his hat before looking around for the dog. He didn't attempt to help the hotel staff that had gone down with the boxes. "Sorry, men. Love and war."

"I think the other side's winning," Jared called out.

Jensen looked across the bar and focused on him. "Oh, it's you he's after."

His eyes took in his husband and the drinks, and his mouth twisted. "I should have guessed."

Jensen made his way to him, and Jared leaned in for a kiss on the nose, as it didn't seem to be as annoyed as the mouth. "Hello, sugar."

Jensen gave him a stink eye. "He's had me in every gin mill on the block."

The unspoken accusation required a response, and there was no denying it looked bad. An apologetic grimace and a simple disclosure would have to suffice. "I may have had him out this morning."

Jensen's eyes approved of neither being up in the morning nor visiting the locals without him. Diversionary tactics were called for.

"Zac. Meet the wife. Jensen, this is Zac."

Jensen smiled approvingly and shook hands with Zac as he corrected Jared. "No, you're _my_ wife. You took my name, remember?"

Jensen remembered his momma's manners enough to apologize to Zac for the chaos. Apparently, he'd been Christmas shopping. Jared looked to the reformed tower of boxes.

  
"And how," he observed.

The boxes and the hotel staff supporting them came to them. The maitre d appeared from that netherworld all maitre ds exist in until they are needed and held Jensen's elbow.

"I am sorry, sir. We will have to remove the dog."

Jared firmed up his hold on the dog in question. "It's okay, Hank. It's my dog. And my husband."

Jensen looked insulted. "You might have mentioned me first in that billing."

The maitre d was similarly unimpressed. "He might bite someone!"

"Oh, no," Jared assured the man. "They're both well trained and Jensen's up to date with his shots anyway."

Vanessa returned as the maitre d was persuaded that Icarus was a paragon of dog virtue. While Icarus stood when commanded to sit, Vanessa told Zac the lawyer was apparently only a block away with news. What kind of news, she couldn't say. Jared hastily made Jensen acquainted with Vanessa as the maitre d asked Icarus to speak, prompting him to sit.

Zac proved himself a paragon by distracting the maitre d with loud, smiling requests for his coat as he and Vanessa would have to take their leave now. Vanessa immediately agreed in a loud and vigorous manner, spinning the man away from the table Icarus was currently under. The maitre d, having decided it wasn't his place to overrule such experts in dog behavior, left to get the coats.

The victory was celebrated with smiles and winks. Vanessa was sorry she and Zac would have to take their leave now, although she was terribly pleased to meet Jensen, and wouldn't have ever dreamt it would be a man to take Jared off the market. It was all agreed that the Ackles family were staying at the Astor and a visit was the loveliest thing any of them could dream of.

The Ackles took their seats at Icarus' table and the _very_ good waiter, Lou, was on the way with more Charleston shaken gin martinis. Jared found himself full of Christmas spirit.

"Pretty girl," Jensen observed dangerously with a smile.

Jared knew the way across this minefield. "Yes, she's a very nice type."

"You got types?"

"Only you, darlin'. Rich, broad freckled shoulders and a wicked mouth."

"Mmm. Who is she?"

"She's Vanessa. Really, darlin', you must try to pay better attention."

Jensen wasn't bad at navigating the battlefield either. "I must have been distracted by her lovely fiancé. His name is Zac, and judging from his artfully mussed hair, he's apparently an energetic dancer."

"Is he, now?" Jared asked, with a lifted eyebrow.

"Yes, it brought a flush to those elfin cheekbones. See? My memory's fine. Now, how are you acquainted with Vanessa?"

Jensen still didn't seem quite entertained enough, so Jared sought to remedy it. "Oh, I was hoping I wouldn't have to answer that."

Jensen's lips twitched. Trust of that sort had never been an issue in their relationship. Jensen's family could whisper all day and night about bisexuals and the temptation of women. Neither man ever looked back.

"A piece of your sordid past, is it?" Jensen's own Christmas spirit was willing to hear a story.

"Yes. Vanessa is really my daughter," Jared leaned his chin on his hand to better reminisce by. Jensen copied the movement. "You see, it was spring in Venice. I was so young. I didn't know what I was doing."

Jensen had his chin perched on both hands now. His eyes were kind and full of sympathy, but his mouth was twitching with a hint of devilment. It was why Jared had to marry that mouth, although the package it came with was worth the price of admission as well.

"We're all like that on my father's side," Jared observed mournfully.

"By the way, how is your father's side?"

"Much better. Yours?"

The smile that lit Jared's life finally broke through. Jensen asked, "So who is she, really?"

"Daughter of a client I used to bounce on my knee. Sam Anderson — some fella wanted to bump him off over a smelting process of all the things. Her old man was the original absent minded professor and misplaced his marriage. His secretary found it for him if I remember."

"The secretary, huh? How urbane."

"Yeah, well, she had experience, having lost her own marriage. I felt bad for Anderson's kids."

"Not Anderson's wife?"

"The wife? A viper named ... Mimi? I think. But nah, don't feel bad for her. She'd shed her skin and go and find another warm body to —" Jared demonstrated the ability of such vipers to twist around and smother a man through liberal use of his arm and with the aid of the vase in the center of the table. Jensen's laugh stopped him.

"Say, how many drinks have you had?"

On cue, a drink appeared to be counted. Jared obliged. "This will be six... no, seven martinis."

"Alright," Jensen looked to Lou. "Please bring me six more martinis. Line them right up here."

"Yes, sir," said the waiter without batting an eye. Jared batted two to make up for it.

While waiting for his own martinis to appear, Jensen helped himself to Jared's olive. He used his left thumb and index finger to hold the spear and his teeth to hold the olive. With great deliberation, Jensen's tongue slowly worked its way around the olive. Tilting his head back slightly, he succeed in removing it and swallowed it down. Jared watched it work its way down his throat while his own throat gulped in sympathy. Jensen's mouth grinned wickedly at him.

"God bless us, everyone," Jared quoted sincerely.

 _A Painful Scene to Emphasize the Perils of Too Much Drink, Occurring on Christmas Eve ~~Morning~~ , Well, Early in the Day_

Tools were needed in Jared's third attempt to awaken Jensen from his slumbers. The first campaign had been an exercise in futility, Jensen having ignored the slight shaking by beginning to snore. Jared's second campaign had enlisted reinforcements who had shamelessly defected to Jensen's side. Icarus had burrowed sleepily into the crook of Jensen's arms, and the picture of domestic bliss they presented was enough to burst Jared's heart. He would be more than willing to express his appreciation if Jensen would ever consent to rising.

And so, tools of the trade were to be employed. An ice pack was laid softly on Jensen's head and held gently in place. Jared held the seltzer close to Jensen's ear, and placed butterfly kisses on Jensen's brow. Third time indeed being the charm, Jensen showed signs of life at last. He thrashed with a groan and made feeble, disjointed efforts to hold the ice pack. His eyes fluttered open and peered at Jared, who had avoided the thrashing from experience, and frowned.

Jared moved the seltzer into the line of sight, and Jensen eyed it for a moment before endeavoring to take it. The attempt at hand-eye coordination failed and Jared rapidly stopped the glass from spilling onto his husband. Jensen moaned softly but allowed Jared to help him sit up and sip at the seltzer.

Jared took the opportunity to pile all the pillows into the middle so when Jensen fell back, he was reclined against Jared's chest. Now able to hold the ice pack and the seltzer on his own, Jensen dubiously attempted speech before coffee.

"What hit me?"

"That last martini."

Jensen awkwardly attempted to look at Jared and succeeded in sliding his head from Jared's chest to his shoulder. From this close vantage point, he studied Jared in a slightly cross-eyed manner that Jared found endearing. Jensen frowned critically at Jared's cleanly shaved face and glanced down at his fully clothed form.

"Seems to have missed you. Why would it pick on me? What have I ever done to the martinis of the world?"

Jared placed a soft kiss on his temple to convince the evident pounding to stop. Jensen indicated the treatment warranted further attempts, so Jared obliged while responding.

"Well you see, _I_ didn't attempt to take on the whole platoon at once," Jared whispered into his brow. "You need to take out martinis one by one, darlin'."

Jared's offer to get up was countered with an offer to wake up but stay in bed, a bargain Jared was eager to accept when the door buzzer sounded. Jensen moaned in an unpleasant manner and moved the ice pack to cover his face. Jared went to murder the intruder.

Although better off than his seltzer-reliant spouse, Jared's reflexes were slowed from the previous evenings festivities. Jared opened the door slowly, leaning on it for support, but found himself faced with an empty hall. Hearing a noise behind him, he turned and scanned the wall to the bar.

At some point, the Astor's excellent staff had restocked the sideboard with the makings of cocktails. Jared headed along the long wall. To his right, the well-appointed living area had a low backed sofa and a chaise facing each other in a conversation setting. The brick fireplace on the opposite long wall had some embers still glowing.

Ben "Mac" Edlund, the attorney Jared had just been speaking of the night before, was poking the embers. His hat had been discarded on the chaise, and he was speaking to Jared. After a moment, Jared realized he had just let the man in and began to pay attention to what he was saying.

" — so I thought I'd come over myself and ask what Dawn's up to."

Jared blinked and went to the bar for some hair of the dog. "Hi, Mac. How's tricks?"

  
Mac stared at him for a moment, allowing Jared to stare back. Ben Edlund did not look or act like any other lawyer in Jared's acquaintance. Although his suits were always consistent with an attorney, Edlund wore a goatee and longer hair. He also insisted on being called Mac, and if Jared ever knew why, he'd since forgotten. Mac's eccentricity used to attract an accordingly singular clientele back in Jared's PI days. It had been eight years since Jared had seen him last, and he hadn't changed much.

Mac's own internal reminisce ended with an apparent recollection of the preferred method of morning communication. He smiled tersely and said in a manner suggesting he was repeating himself, "Sorry to barge in, Padalecki."

Jared waved the courtesy away. "No bother. And if you call me Ackles, it might get you a drink."

Mac blinked at him. "Oh, that's right. I'd heard someone caught you. But, no, I'm not drinking."

"Well that's a mistake," Jared assured him. "I certainly am. Have a seat, Mac. What's on your mind?"

"When Vanessa told me you were town, I thought I'd come ask. What's Dawn up to? That's what I need to know." Mac took a seat on the chaise.

"Dawn?" Jared asked, struggling to place the name.

Mac had resigned himself to speaking slowly. "Dawn Ostroff," he prodded, then tried again at Jared's look of uncertainty. "Dawn Anderson? Vanessa's mother? Sam's wife?"

"Oh! You mean Mimi!" Jared realized as he finished making his drink and settled on the sofa across from Mac.

Mac sighed with a smile. "Yes. Dawn "Call Me Mimi" Ostroff. What's she up to?"

Jared swung his leg onto the sofa to change positions. The old detective's habit of positioning himself to see the man's body language, while also watching the door, made a surprise return. He also found himself blocking Mac's approach to the bedroom behind him. Rather than question it, Jared ignored the tendency, took a sip of his drink, and countered, "I haven't seen Mimi in years. Why? Does she have to be up to something?"

"She usually is. Trying one way or another to get money out of Sam." The lawyer looked sheepish. Mac's biggest problem had always been that his conscious was bigger than his profession should allow. "I was wondering if you were... well, sleuthing for her."

No offense was meant or taken, and Jared shook his head. "I haven't been in the business or the know for years, I'm afraid. Jensen's father died and left him a railway, lumber mill and god knows what else. I've gone respectable to watch after them."

And then, because curiosity got the better of him, he added, "What's all the fuss about Anderson about? Did he go into hiding?"

Mac shrugged and looked relieved that Jared wasn't involved, which seemed suspicious or insulting. Mac didn't seem the type to insult people.

"You know as much about it as I do," Mac said. "I haven't seen him in three months."

"Three — no word at all?"

"Only through his new wife, Leighton. He sends word through her that he needs money. I give it to her, she gives it to him."

Jared's eyebrows raised at the arrangement. "Leighton? The secretary? That's still an active line of pursuit, huh?"

The phone rang. Jared got to it on the first ring, but Jensen's voice still answered from the bedroom. "Hello? Oh. Just a minute."

Jared handed the phone over to Mac. "It's for you."

Jensen came out of the bedroom with a robe casually on and the ice pack tied to his head. "Is there a — "

Mac was speaking on the phone with his back to them. Jared went to his husband and quietly attempted to straighten the robe. His efforts removed more of the robe and were subsequently rebuffed. The associated glare was diminished by the ice bag precariously tied to Jensen's noggin. Jared allowed himself to be entertained by the fact that the cold pack made them the same height.

He pointed to Jensen's chest, and when Jensen looked down, the headpiece overbalanced. Jared chuckled at his own cleverness and thus failed to see Jensen swinging a hand up to smack the back of his head in time to duck. An unfair tickle to the ribs was being answered in kind when Mac cleared his throat to indicate he could, in fact, see their antics quite clearly.

"Oh, pardon me," Jensen said with an amazing composure. "Hello."

"Mac, this is my husband, Jensen. Jensen, this is Mac, the attorney for young Vanessa's family."

Jensen nodded carefully in understanding. "The sweet little girl with her pretty fiancé from last night. I remember. How do you do?"

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Padalecki, my belated congratulations. Jared, I have to get going. Anderson's back in town!"

Jensen seemed willing to become a Padalecki for good news. "Vanessa's missing father? Is he?"

"Yes, he's waiting for me now."

  
And with hurried goodbyes and Merry Christmases all around, Mac was out the door.

Jensen moved around the end table between the sofa and chaise to the tree next to the balcony doors. The tree had been provided by the Astor for the holiday, and Jensen was determined to trim it for the party they were hosting that night. Jared left him to it and telephoned Vanessa to share the news about her father.

Vanessa's mother, the aforementioned viper and up-to-something -Mimi-, answered the call at the other end. After several assurances that Vanessa was out at the moment but that any information could be given to Mimi, Vanessa was given the phone. She was delighted to hear her father was alive and well, and Jared was delighted to give it to her. More Christmas wishes were bestowed, and Jared rang off.

Seeing that Jensen had just unpacked the mistletoe, Jared hurried to help.

  



	3. Wherein New York City Decides Jared *Is* a Private Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Containing scenes of revelry and hijinks and woeful lack of Christmas cheer.  
> December 24-25, 1934

_A Scene of Revelry and Hijinks, Occurring on Christmas Eve Evening_  
 _  
_  
Jared grabbed a quick kiss from Jensen as he took the drink tray from him and patrolled the party. While the tree may not have been completely trimmed, the Ackles men certainly were. An annual gala, Jensen had determined that the first Christmas party away from California called for full tux-and-tails. Feeling somewhat like a cross between a waiter and a courier navigating the trenches, Jared swooped into his patrol pattern.

"Ammunition!" he called as the tray made its first stop by the fireplace. All of Jensen's parties consisted of a wondrous mix of friends, friends of friends, and complete strangers. A surprising number of Jared's former associates found themselves chatting up several of the well-to-do members of Jensen's circle in perfect harmony. As it was a Christmas party, Jensen would provide nothing less than the full measure of wine, women and song.

"Come on, folks, stock up!" he cajoled as several people from the fireplace and chaise exchanged old glasses for full ones from the tray in his hand. They all smiled as the drink tray departed the fireplace and reached the balcony doors. A sobbing prize fighter attracted his attention.

"Say," he asked the blubbering fellow. "What happened? Lose a bout?"

Assured that all was wonderful, the drinks moved on to a shady looking man with few teeth who informed Jared that Jensen was just swell. Jared toasted to it and swooped around the Christmas tree to the other corner. A group was gathered around the radio by the bedroom door attempting to find a suitable dance number.

"Highballs and cocktails," Jared interrupted. "That's the long and short of it."

The punster moved on to the party goers on the sofa before the groans caught up to him.

Jensen wandered out with a tray of martinis, in order to keep a close eye on the dangerous things, and proceeded along the same route. He spotted the crying and successfully avoided it but was caught at the dentally challenged man. Jensen was to be informed that Jared was swell. Jensen allowed that Jared did indeed have his moments with a wink over to him. Jared stuck his tongue out at him on the return trip to the kitchen.

The doorbell demanded attention, but Jensen waved Jared off and went to answer it himself.

The man at the door was glad to have a martini and equally pleased to meet Jensen. He was also of the loud opinion that Jared was a swell guy, even if Jared had gotten him locked up for burglary and grand larceny.

Jared left his tray, now full of empty glasses in the kitchen and hurried to welcome the genial arrival. In the face of that much Christmas cheer, Jensen was consenting to be called Padalecki again. New York seemed convinced they were Padaleckis and would apparently not be happy until they changed the name on the reservation.

"Hello, Face. Long time, no see."

"Hi, Jared! Yeah, well, I needed the rest. The stir's a great place to get your head on straight."

Jensen asked, "Was he a good detective?"

Jared caught the nostalgic tone, but laughed when Face admitted he didn't know. Curiosity about Jared's career had been absent for years, and Jared wasn't sure why it would return now with Face. As the story Face could share would end with a black eye for Jared, a disgruntled pig farmer, and a stripper, Jared wasn't inclined to humor any possible disclosures. He pulled Face over to the sideboard and held his martini while Face discarded his hat and coat.

"Revelers!" Jared crowed to the nearest group. "I want you to meet Face Peppler."

He pressed the martini back into Face's hand. "Now all you have to do is find out who they are."

Assured a forgotten chapter of his past would now remain forgotten, Jared looked around for Jensen. He found him in the middle of the sofa, cheerfully attempting to sit on the crying man's lap while on the phone. The sobbing had subdued as the prize fighter seemed unsure what to do with an opponent endeavoring to use him as furniture.

"Don't bother to announce them anymore, Hank." Jensen was saying to the concierge on duty. "Just send them all up. I know what it looks like, but they're all his friends."

Seeing that the crying had stopped for the moment, Jensen straightened and winked at Jared. Wanting nothing more than to dance with his husband and noting a criminal lack of dancing music, Jared made his way back to the radio.

The problem was discovered in the form of a reporter, also from Jared's former life. _That_ potential story ended with Jared in handcuffs, and now the potential storyteller had switched off the music in favor of the news. Not approving of either, Jared reached for the knob when the announcer caught his attention.

Anderson's secretary, Leighton Meester, had been murdered — shot — earlier that day. The authorities were tracking two suspects: Sam Anderson, the batty professor himself, and a nameless "gangster ex-boyfriend". The gruesome details from the coroner's report completed the tale.

Jared was shaken and quickly turned it off. _That_ sort of thing was not _his_ sort of thing anymore. For the first time, the wisdom in spending the holiday in New York rather than California was called into question. California didn't know about Jared's former life and its tendency towards murder. New York seemed willing to kill people for merely mentioning their names around him.

"Don't you think of anything besides business?" he complained bitterly to the reporter, resenting the incursion.

"Sounds like a case for you," was the steady reply, indicating Jared's reaction had not been missed. He made note to only befriend unobservant people from now on. "Didn't you work for Anderson once?"

"Yes, but don't you start."

It was too late. A flurry of questions and accusations of being in New York to work for Anderson followed him back towards Jensen.

"C'mon, pal, I've never been one to be hip to reporters! I'm not in on it!"

"If you aren't working a case, then what are you doing in New York?"

Jared indicated Jensen with a nod. "It's my husband. He's on a bender and I'm trying to sober him up."

Jensen's lovestruck sense of hearing overheard the last, and he came over to rescue Jared and put him to work in the kitchen breaking up some ice. As Jared paused at the door, the reporter latched onto the magnate's heir.

"Is Jared working on a case?"

"Oh yes," Jensen replied breezily. "He's working on a case of Scotch as we speak. Pitch in and help him."

The Ackles men regrouped in the kitchen. Jensen used the kitchen phone to order up some food, although Jared thought it a waste of energy. Jensen was of the opinion that the Leighton Meester case sounded interesting and Jared should take it.

"I don't have the time," Jared protested. "I'm much too busy preventing you from drinking all the money I married you for."

"Well it sounds like a good case. Secretary and wife, mysteriously murdered. They haven't found weapons or clues or fingerprints. They don't even have a good suspect!"

"They probably haven't even gotten a chance to — " Jared caught himself and the intense look from Jensen.

He waggled a finger at his overly curious better half. "But I'm not interested," he sing-songed out the door.

Jensen had to place the order for sandwiches, and the escape was complete.

Jared immediately encountered the crying boxer again. "What's with the waterworks?"

"This is such a great time. But I want to wish my mother a Merry Christmas."

"Well, why don't you call her?"

"I don't have any nickels!" came the desperate cry that pulled at Jared's heart and Jensen's wallet.

"Don't be a goof! Have at it!" Jared indicated the phone. The crying ceased, and the offer was eagerly accepted. Jared knew Jensen would be happy to help.

"Operator? I want to speak to San Francisco, please."

Well, perhaps not _happy,_ but Jensen would certainly be proud. Before any further thought could be had on it, the door buzzer rang again.

A fur coat and muff were standing in the doorway. Brown puppy eyes gazed up pleadingly from just above the collar. Damn his luck with strays, she'd followed him home. Jared indicated with an arm that Vanessa should come in. He attempted to remove the fur for a better look at the girl inside. She chattered as he did so, and it was understood that Vanessa had to speak to Jared alone and immediately.

This announcement stirred the interest of the reporter and Face, who made no pretext of hiding it. Jared decided a change of venue was in order and stopped trying to remove the fur. Instead, he quickly used his grip on the collar to guide Vanessa to the bedroom to hear her out.

"We're clear," he announced as he secured the door. "What did you have to say?"

Vanessa was fidgeting with something in her fur muff. "You know the gun that killed Leighton and no one can find?"

"Yes," Jared acknowledged, bracing for what came next. When Vanessa took out the gun and began waving it, he immediately got it away from them and forced her to hand it over.

"You're hurting me!"

"Well, I rather intended to," Jared admitted. "Are you trying to tell me you did it?"

"Y — yes," came the very unconvincing response."Yes, I killed her!"

Jared poked her with one finger, causing her to fall backwards into the hotel chair. "Sit down," he said sternly.

He pulled up a chair and leaned into her. His expression must have showed his mood because she shrank back a little.

"So you murdered Leighton Meester?" he asked.

She gathered a little of her nerves and straightened. "That's right. I went over to ask to speak to my father, and she wouldn't let me. S — so I shot her!"

"How many times?"

" — Once or twice — "

"Where?"

" — In the — c-chest — "

"What did she do?"

"Do? Why she — she fell over backwards."

"Did she scream?"

" — — yes."

"Who are you trying to protect?" He cut off her protests. "Now, look, Leighton was shot four times, landed face first, and she couldn't have screamed, she died instantly. And I've only heard the radio. Now who do you think did it?"

"I don't know." She gave up the evil mastermind and switched back to the kicked puppy. Jared had to admit it was a better choice but he forced himself to remain stern.

"Where'd you get the gun?"

"I just bought it at a pawn shop."

She jumped up to leave, and he moved to stop her. For his trouble, he got an armful of sobbing girl as Jensen came into the bedroom to see where he'd gone to.

Jensen seemed far too amused to catch his husband with another woman in their bedroom. Jared pulled a face at him over Vanessa's head. The impudent wretch had the nerve to stick his tongue out at him before coming in and closing the door. Vanessa jumped back at the sound.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," she began.

"Don't be silly," Jensen assured her while supplying her with a cocktail. "Here, have a drink. If you want to powder your nose, there are supplies in the dressing room."

"There are?" Jared asked, although why such things at one of Jensen's parties should surprise him, he did not know.

Jensen was too distracted by the gun to defend his beauty supply stock. "Where did you get that?"

"She brought it in, trying to make me think she killed Leighton Meester."

Jared frowned at the damned thing and moved to the dresser. Jensen followed, asking, "Well what are you going to do with it?"

Jared dropped it into the drawer and shut it. "Nothing until I find out if it really is the murder weapon. But, um, keep her in here away from the reporter. He might believe her."

Jensen nodded and crossed to the dressing room.

Outside, the reporter in question was not in a pleasant mood, feeling that Jared had lied about his involvement on the case. He fought the boxer for the phone while Jared admonished him not to publish that he was on the case when he wasn't.

And he wasn't, dammit. He was a gentleman of business and a kept man now. No more of that working for a living nonsense for him, thank you very much.

The door buzzer sounded again, and Jared wondered how much of the security deposit they would lose if he dismantled it.

Vanessa's mother, Mimi, stood in all her glory on the other side, and her glory was a sight to behold. A smart black suit had been attacked by iridescent sequins. A black mink stole and matching satin gloves had been combined with patent saddle back pumps. The short, bobbed blonde hair and exaggerated cupid makeup would look smart on someone twenty years younger. Crowning it all was a black cap with a slight veil and very large black and sequined feather, which bobbed in a hypnotic fashion as she spoke.

And speak Mimi did, because Jared had been naughty that year and this was the universe's way of giving him coal for Christmas. Jared found it most unfair as _Jensen_ had instigated most of the naughtiness and nothing was after _him_ except a few martinis.

"Mimi, for the love of — "

"Jared! You don't understand! I simply _must_ speak to you — "

Jared manhandled her into and across the room quickly. "Yes, I know, it's a convention. Hope you remembered to put your roller skates on, because baby, we gotta roll."

He got her to the bedroom door when strategic sense got the better of him. He quickly diverted one door down.

"Well!" Mimi greeted the porcelain domain. "What — "

"Look, I'm sorry, Mimi, but it's the only place we can be alone. Have a seat." A quick hunt produced a stool and Jared perched on the tub's rim.

Mimi's survival instincts took over, and she ignored the room. Jared tried his best to pay serious attention while the feather bobbed up and down. Jared was to be assured that it didn't believe for an instant that Anderson had anything to do with Leighton's murder. But the feather had to admit that it was so suspicious that he would just disappear as he had.

After all, Anderson was a heartless cad, but even he should know that one should make an appearance when their spouse is murdered. The feather also found it odd that Anderson wouldn't return any of her calls or letters. All Mimi wanted to do was help her family, after all.

The feather was also at a loss to explain why Mac — "that lawyer" — wouldn't help. He had always been a nasty sort — always believing the worse, and implying that Mimi just wanted money.

" — Don't you?" Jared was no longer in the mood to suffer fools gladly.

"Why, Jared." Mimi giggled coquettishly for no good reason. "You were always such a tease."

Jared suddenly remembered how much he'd disliked Mimi. She clutched at his arm with an ugly, desperate look. "Now, look here, I have just as much rights as that tramp Leighton had! I was his wife longer! _I_ am the mother to his children — not that floosy! I _need_ to talk to him! The police suspect him, and I have something very important to say to him."

Jared shook her off. "There are hundreds of detectives in New York! Go hire one of them!"

Mimi was not deterred. "Yes, but he knows you and trusts you! All you have to do is find him and tell him Mimi says everything is all right, but that I've just _got_ to see him."

"I'm telling you, I don't want any part of this. Now you take Vanessa home — "

The transformation from leech to viper snake was amazingly fast. "Vanessa? Is she here?"

"Well — " It was rather too late to put that particular cat back in its bag. "Yes. She's in the dressing room with my husband."

That sounded completely inappropriate, and Jared was trying to think of alternatives as Mimi grabbed the adjoining door and slithered in.

"What did you tell them?" Mimi shrieked as she crossed the room in two steps and slapped her daughter across the face before Jensen could blink.

Jensen immediately had the snake cornered and those violent tendencies curbed. He looked over his shoulder to Jared while Mimi struggled uselessly to get away. Jensen's tux was hardly even rumpled by the exertion. "Is she all right? Are you? What's the deal bringing this in?"

"I didn't bring her in. She slithered on in like the viper she is. Meet Vanessa's mother. Call her Mimi. I'd help out, but I'm too busy admiring your form, son. Don't often get to appreciate it from the spectator's seat."

Jensen's look spoke volumes, but as he had an armful of viper and Jared was now holding a crying puppy in his lap, it was mostly empty threats. Jared turned his attention to Vanessa, as she was really a champ and had already stopped crying.

Mimi had also calmed down as she realized she wasn't getting past Jensen with any of the tricks she had at her disposal.

"Oh, I — I'm so sorry. I got so excited I didn't know what I was doing." She slinked her way back to the door and tried straightening her stole and arranging her gloves. "Come along, Vanessa. We're going home."

Jensen swung to face Vanessa, positioning himself between the two. "You do _not_ have to go. Not if you don't want to. You can stay here. There's plenty of room, and we'd be happy to have you."

Jared's heart swelled. It would seem he wasn't the only one with a weak spot for stray puppies. It certainly explained how he'd gotten lucky enough to catch Jensen in the first place. Vanessa seemed shaken, however, and said she'd go with Mimi.

"Oh! Oh! Where's Milo?" Mimi asked as if she'd suddenly remembered.

Jensen was handicapped by not knowing the roster for this game. "Who's Milo?"

"The viper's son, the puppy's brother, and a crack pot in his own right," Jared answered. "Is he here?"

Everyone eyed the door to the party.

"We might as well be living in the lobby," Jensen summed up.

Jensen moved first, but Jared caught up as they found Milo holding an audience with the reporter and several party goers. The bug-eyed but otherwise dapper young man was lecturing on the psychology of psychopathic killers. Both Ackles rocked back a little on their heels at the subject matter.

"You see, there's a psychological as well as a physiological aspect to my father's relationship to Leighton Meester that the police have not considered."

He was sitting perfectly still with his bowler hat perfectly centered on his lap. He shared Vanessa's coloring, but was far paler and had less broad features. His eyes were fine enough for discussing the weather. The gleam that his apparent passion for killers gave them was disturbing and unfortunate. It was also slightly hypnotic, and no one seemed capable of speaking as he continued. "And I think it settles the whole question — "

Just then, Jensen reached out and snatched the bowler off his lap and the eerie calm demeanor was replaced by agitation.

"Hey! That's my hat!"

"Oh dear," Jensen murmured absentmindedly. "So sorry. Really, let me fix that — "

And before anyone else had even moved, both Jensen and Milo had disappeared back into the bedroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my husband," Jared crowed, bursting with pride.

A flurry of amazed questions, from the aghast guests as well as the reporter, swelled in a cacophony.

"I know nothing about it. I AM NOT ON THIS CASE!" Jared insisted to the universe in general. "I'm just in New York to celebrate a quiet Christmas." Here, everyone laughed, including Jared. " — with my gorgeous husband and beautiful friends."

Several cheers greeted this. One of the friends of friends called over to him. "Jared! Telephone!"

"Really? It still works? I thought everyone used doorbells now." He took the phone. "Hello?"

"Is this Jared Padalecki?"

"No, but it's Jared Ackles." New York wasn't taking that name from him without a fight.

"Look, I don't got time for this. I want to lay a proposition down for you."

"For what?"

"Let's call it insurance. It's about Leighton Meester. It's not who the coppers think — " The receiver went dead, despite Jared's best glare to convince it to reconnect.

"Who was that?" The reporter still wasn't convinced there wasn't a story here and Jared couldn't really blame him. He missed the days where people actually went and found cases rather than have them show up in the middle of Christmas parties.

"Someone trying to sell me insurance," he answered truthfully.

Jensen came out of the bedroom with a smirk on his face and an announcement to the party in general that the Andersons had left out the back door. The reporter and several revelers caught up in his excitement followed.

Spontaneously, in spurts and off keys gasps, the remaining crew began singing "O Christmas Tree". They had apparently finished off Jensen's tree with balloons and various shiny bar utensils. Jensen declared it wonderful and collapsed on a chaise to stretch out. One of the complete strangers proved useful by placing a drink in his hand.

Jared tried the trick for himself and draped himself on top of Jensen. Worked even better the second time, as Jared ended up not only with a drink, but Jensen wrapped around his back where he belonged.

The boxer had finally reached San Francisco and Mother, and some, but not all, of the carolers had switched to singing Silent Night. Face was cheerfully conducting both groups of carolers, using a poker from the fireplace.

Jensen sighed in Jared's ear. "Oh, Jared. I love you because you know such lovely people."

They kissed on it.

  
_A Scene Sadly Lacking in Christmas Cheer, Occurring Very, Very Early Christmas_

"Jared? You asleep?"

"Yes."

"Good. I want to talk to you."

Jared was normally not opposed to late night "talks" with his husband and got an eye open to look at Jensen. The signs didn't seem to indicate this would be a continuation of the earlier pleasantries though. Jensen was fully awake and dressed in his pajamas with the lights on and newspapers all around him.

Jared raised his head to look at the papers. "That looks jolly."

"Wouldn't you like to do some detecting every once in a while — just for fun?"

That was a question implying a large amount of musing and Jared didn't like the idea of Jensen musing that long without him. He mused on his own, "Can't you get to sleep?"

"No."

Jared wasn't going to let simple direct answers derail his diversions. "Maybe if you had something to drink, it would help?"

"No, thank you."

"Well maybe it would help if _I_ took it." Jared rolled out of bed and made his way to the tray on the dresser. He was _not_ fully dressed, and the loose silk pajama bottoms had slid low around his hips. Jensen's eyes were appreciative of the view, but that damned stubborn mind of his was still on other things.

"Everybody says you're a grand detective," Jensen offered. "I'd like to see you work."

And that was the problem in a nutshell. Jared wasn't sure how much Jensen understood about what detecting was. How petty and ugly people could really be and how much of it reminded Jared of the trenches. Jensen was no wallflower, and he knew there were truly abhorrent things in the world, but he'd never seen them like Jared had.

"In the morning, I'll buy you a slew of detective novels," he promised, attempting to keep his voice light.

  
"I know," Jensen whispered, causing Jared to involuntarily hold his gaze. "But that poor girl's in a tough spot."

"I can't help her," Jared said in all sincerity.

"She thinks you can. Wouldn't hurt you to try and see if you could."

Jared let out a sigh and took a drink. "Darlin', my best guess is that Anderson killed his wife and Vanessa knows about it. I can't do anything but help the police track him quicker."

He moved back to the bed with determination hampered only slightly by the twisted sheets refusal to cover him. He collapsed on his stomach and closed his eyes.

"You know, a drink might help after all."

Jared opened the eye closest to the innocent beaming husband next to him. That was the problem with marrying truly kind hearted souls. You forgot how diabolical they could be. Jensen continued to be innocent and adoringly gazing.

Jared let out a deep chuckle that shook the bed and got up once more like a good little wife. "My darling — "

Jensen even rewarded him with a change of topic. "I'll give you your Christmas present now if you give me mine."

"That wasn't it earlier?" Jared quipped before remembering he wanted to go back to sleep. From the predatory glint now in Jensen's gaze, he knew this was not conducive to a good night's rest.

"In the morning," Jared said sternly.

"It's Christmas now," Jensen reasoned.

"In the morning," Jared reiterated, handing Jensen his drink and placing a firm kiss on his lips.

"What are you going to get me? I hope I don't like it," pouted Jensen, who was not one for traditions calling for the combined presence of sobriety and mornings.

There was a knock at the suite door as Jared began battling with the covers again. He would always be fascinated at Jensen's ability to keep the sheets on his side of the bed intact while Jared's refused to obey any reasonable request.

Jensen looked at the floundering wreak with impatience. "Didn't you hear the door?"

"Yes." A reasonable amount of coverage had been obtained, and Jared settled in. Jensen was not pleased and threw his side off, causing a draft.

Jensen grabbed his robe and threw Jared's at his head. Jared recruited it into the blanket.

Jensen came back in and announced that a man was here to see Jared.

"Oh good, I was afraid I might go back to sleep."

Jensen looked in dismay at the bedsheets. Without Jensen to control them, both halves were now in chaos. "I swear you're worse than a baby. Get up! Get your robe on and go see what the devil he wants while I straighten up this mess."

Jared was unceremoniously rolled to the far side of the bed and fought to get the robe on. By the time he'd straightened it out, the goon with the gun was already behind the oblivious Jensen. Jensen looked up to frown at his unmoving husband.

"You have the strangest expression on your fa — " He trailed off as his eyes followed Jared's to the gun. "Well."

Both Ackles sat on the bed, although Jared wasn't in the least happy that Jensen was a good three feet from him and only inches from the barrel. Jared and the newcomer were a surprising match in height and weight, and while Jared also had Jensen, the man had two reinforcements named Smith and Wesson.

A quick study showed the man seemed agitated; his short curly hair was drenched in sweat, and his beady eyes darted around the room constantly. A seasoned soldier by Jared's reckoning, he seemed comfortable with the firearm and alarmingly unfazed by the notion of plugging Jensen between the eyes.

Jensen seemed to appreciate the cufflinks on the thug's brown and tan pinstripe suit quite a bit and was willing to ignore the gun to admire them. His calm appraisal was being returned when Icarus appeared and began yapping at the man. The gun became nervous again and threatened to take it out on one of them. Jensen quickly grabbed at the dog and shushed him, tying up both hands and one arm. Jared found himself shaking.

The newcomer finally spoke in a nervous rapid fire aimed at Jared. "I gotta talk to you, I want you to tell me something, and I want you to give it to me straight, get me?"

"Sure. Hey, would you mind putting that gun away? My guy doesn't mind, but I'm a timid sort."

"Idiot," decided Jensen, who could probably count the grooves on it by now as it swung in his face. "Answer the man."

"All right shoo — er, I mean — what's on your mind?"

"You don't have to tell me you're tough," conceded the gunman. "I heard about you. I'm Adam Baldwin."

"I've never heard about you," Jared was forced to admit, which was a reminder of how long he'd been out of the game.

"I never knocked Leighton off!" the confessor said.

"That's right, you didn't." The gun was now pointed away from Jared's favorite pair of green eyes, as he intended.

"I ain't even seen her in about three months. We was all washed up!"

"Well, why tell me?" This case had officially gone too far. Jared was an amiable sort but gun waving at Jensen wouldn't be tolerated much longer.

"I never had a reason to hurt Leighton; she was always on the level with me. But that scrawny little brainy guy — he's the one that got sore 'cause I clicked with her and he didn't!"

"You mean Anderson?"

"Yeah, that's him," admitted Baldwin, now waving the gun as he spoke. "He got all hot that Leighton never took his name when she had mine. Then he found out we still talk. She wasn't going to give up a meal ticket for the talking we were doing."

The gun shook to emphasize how serious he was. "She was getting it legal and all. But then he went and got sore, and he killed her and then he fingered me!"

"So you're the one the radio called the gangster boyfriend!" Jensen was happy to fill in another blank on that roster he had going and ignored both the gun and the scowl now aimed back at him. "So you think Anderson did it too?"

"Well of course he did! Who else? I'm not taking the fall for nobody. You hear me?"

"Look, pal, we hear you," Jared hated not being the center of attention and was determined to get it back. "But _why_ are we hearing you? Why tell us? It's nothing to us."

The gun got bored with all the conversation with no violence and returned to Baldwin's pocket. "Now, listen. Studsy Burke said you used to be okay, so I came to — "

"Studsy! How is old Studsy?" Jared delightedly asked. "I didn't know he was out of the stir!"

"Oh, he's all right; he'd be glad to see you, though." The bulldog in Baldwin wouldn't let it completely go. "But what's the law doing to me? Do they think I did it, or is this just something else to pin on me?"

"I don't know. How would I? Ask the police."

" _Ask the police_. That'd be smart. That'd be the smartest thing I did with the police captain in a hospital bed on account of we had a disagreement. The boys would like me to come in and ask questions. They'd like it down to the tips of their blackjacks! Now I comes to you on the level 'cause Studsy says you're on the level. Why don't you _be_ on the level?"

The gun was showing interest in the conversation again although it was still in his pocket. Jensen noticed it too. Jared made sure he stayed the center of attention. "I _am_ on the level. If I knew anything — "

Another knock on the door cut him off. It was getting so Jared missed the buzzer.

"What was that?" asked the gun as it leapt from the pocket.

"I don't know." Jared replied to the Smith and Wesson. "This is _your_ show."

"Police! Open up!" the hall door said.

Jensen and Jared moved towards the goon at the same time, which was unfortunate as it meant Jensen's jaw was in the way. He went down like a stack of bricks and Jared was struggling alone when the gun went off.

The sound was apparently considered probable cause as almost immediately, Baldwin was being dragged off Jared by New York's Finest. Jared spun down and picked up Jensen.

"Jensen! Wake up! Help me get him to the bed," he ordered a detective with the air of someone with an ax to grind.

"What hit him?"

"I did, dammit. He got in the way."

"I got in the way? That's rich," Jensen protested while snuggling closer. "Abusive husband is what I got."

"I'm sorry! Why did you take him? I had the clear shot."

"You mean _he_ had the clear shot at _you_. I was the one — " Jensen stopped as his hand came up red. "Jared! You've been shot!"

A more immediate recovery had never been recorded in medical history. Jensen was on his feet and Jared was off his faster than their wedding night. Protests that he was simply grazed were overruled, and a room full of beat cops were cowed into submission. The room was cleared, a doctor was called, towels and ice were obtained and Jared was resting comfortably.

The grim detective and one remaining cop with an obviously growing Jensen-shaped crush remained. The grim and the boss were having a staring contest.

"C'mon, fellas, you can share me."

The grim turned into a grim tomato at the notion, and Jensen looked mutinous. "I bought sole rights. I ain't gotta share, son."

"Just so, just so. But he's not looking to sample, just perform his sacred duty, so let's have at it, shall we?"

The grim was still flustering at the idea. One of those altar boy types, no doubt. Well if Jared wasn't going to change his name for the city of New York, he certainly wasn't going to change it for an altar boy with a rumpled suit.

To prove the point, Jensen conjured a drink for him and held the glass. Soothed and comforted, Jared tried to be conversational.

"How did you people pop in here? Don't you have to introduce yourself properly?"

The rumpled suit had a hat to match. The detective's impressive hands kept worrying the brim. At one time, the hat had been a respectable fedora, but that appeared to have been a murder case or two ago. A beard was also suffering from neglect. It seemed Jared wasn't the only one to have been bothered by this case. "I'm Lieutenant Jeff Morgan. I'm in charge of the Leighton Meester case."

  
"Well, that explains your grim demeanor, but not what you're doing here."

"We heard that this place was becoming something of a meeting place for Andersons, so we thought we'd keep an eye on it in case the old boy himself decided to show up. We saw that piece of work Baldwin sneak in and decided to come up." The composure had returned. "Lucky for you we did, too!"

"Yeah," agreed Jared. "If it weren't for you, I might not have got shot!"

It was no sweat off Morgan's nose. "How do you know Baldwin, anyhow?"

"I've never seen him in my life."

"Yeah? What did he want with you two, then?"

"He wanted to tell us he didn't kill Leighton Meester," answered Jensen, sitting next to Jared and indicating Morgan should take the chair. The chair was so comfortable that they had put it in the closet the first day at the hotel. To put the lieutenant completely at ease, Jensen started to stroke Jared's hair.

Morgan was made so comfortable by the display that he actually became more churlish. "What's Leighton Meester to you?"

"Nothing," Jared countered.

"Well what did he _think_ she was to you?"

"I dunno. Ask'em."

"I'm asking you!"

Jared took a moment to finish his drink. "Well, keep asking."

Morgan looked to the cop at the door still mooning over Jensen. "Frisk the dump."

  
"Not without a warrant," warned Jensen.

"So you say," argued Morgan while indicating the show was going on.

Jensen left Jared's side to go monitor the search and Jared continued watching Morgan. "Tough, huh?"

Not as such, as it happened. The grim appeared to be warring with something like abashment. "Now, look here, Ackles. I guess we're both going about this thing in the wrong way. I don't want to get wrong with you, and I'm sure you don't want to get wrong with me. So how about one last question? You willing to swear out a complaint for Baldwin's plugging ya?"

Being the first person in New York to get his name right earned Morgan a lot of good will from Jared. But there was a niggling problem with the truth and Baldwin's belief that the police batons of the city held a grudge against him. "That's another one I can't quite answer just now. It might have been an accident."

Morgan wasn't thrilled with the bet hedging and wasn't in a forgiving frame of mind when the cop found Vanessa's gun. Jared frowned at the idea of another man in Jensen's things, and the cop took the hint but turned the gun over to Morgan anyhow.

Morgan looked much happier. "Well, then. It looks like there are more questions since you can't answer the others. You got a pistol permit?"

"No."

"What about you — Jensen, is it?"

"No."

"Ever heard of the Sullivan Act?"

"Oh that's all right and square," Jensen breezed, handing Jared another drink and resuming his spot beside him. "We're married."

After being shot, Jared's ribs protested holding in all that laughter. Morgan didn't look like he'd enjoyed it. "Not the marriage law — the gun law — " He shook himself and started again. "This gun yours?"

"No." They took to answering together to save him some time.

"Whose is it?"

"Dunno."

The synchronized mimicry and the arrival of the doctor forced a retreat. Morgan was giving the gun a good home, as it didn't belong in a hotel room with strangers, and was coming back in the morning when some sleep would have helped their memories.

"Say," Jared said as the doc was finishing him up. "Where's Icarus?"

Jensen's eyes widened in panic for a moment before settling disapprovingly at the foot of the bed.

"Come here, you," he said, pulling the dog out from under the bed. "Although I guess between the three of us, you're the one with the most sense."

Jensen showed what he thought of husbands who knocked out spouses and got shot by dropping Icarus on Jared's bandaged ribs. By the time the stars cleared, Jensen and the doctor were on the way out. Icarus took up a bold offensive position hiding behind Jared's pillows. Jared looked askance at the dog who hid his head for shame at earlier acts of bravado.

Jensen came back from seeing the doctor out. "I've pulled up the drawbridge and set the boys in the lobby on alert. We should be good until daylight."

He looked seriously at Jared. "I'm glad you aren't on this case."

"On it? I'm _in_ it. That Morgan thinks I _did_ it."

"Did you?" Jensen asked hopefully. "That would be tidy."

Jared threw one of his pillows at him.


	4. Wherein *Jensen* Decides that Jared Is a Private Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Containing scenes outlining some of the many ways Jensen is the boss of Jared  
> Christmas Day, 1934

_A Scene of Interrupted Domestic Bliss, Occurring Christmas, in the Actual Bona Fide Morning_  
 _  
_  
Jared lined up the enemy in his sights and exhaled slowly while he squeezed the trigger. The balloon on the tree made an extremely satisfying popping noise. Jared chuckled and set to reloading the antique dueling pistol Jensen had gotten him.

The bandages around his ribs were constrictive and Jensen had allowed that they would ruin the lines of a suit. Accordingly, Jared had remained in pajamas with a smoking jacket donned to be decent enough to answer a hotel door. Jared imagined that he was quite the picture of a Great White Hunter with his new dueling pistol and pulled a properly regal face to take aim at the next balloon from his sprawled position on the sofa.

Jensen watched from his equally sprawled position on the chaise on the far side of a sea of discarded wrapping paper. Jared popped another balloon, and Jensen half-heartedly raised a glass in toast, obviously growing bored with the show. Jared was determined to win a proper response for his skill with a firearm.

Rolling to his stomach and grabbing a mirror that had found its way to the coffee table, Jared positioned the pistol over his shoulder and used the mirror to take sight on another balloon. He exhaled and fired again.

Immediately, his ear burned, and the hotel window next to the balloon shattered. Jared froze.

After a moment, he risked a glance over at Jensen, who was definitely no longer bored with the proceedings. The eyebrows were disbelieving, the eyes definitely did not approve, but the mouth was fighting back the devilment and laughter. Jared truly did love that mouth.

"Are you satisfied now?" the mouth asked.

"Why I hit nothing but balloons, sir! A perfect record!"

Jensen grinned broadly, a poster boy for decadence and moral decay if ever Jared had seen one. His shirt was unbuttoned to near his waist and was untucked from his suit pants. His suit jacket was nowhere to be seen, but the long flowing outer coat hung from his frame like a robe. Jared appreciated the coat and said so.

"What's that you're wearing?"

"It's a wool coat."

"It's very nice. Where'd you get it?"

  
"You gave it to me."

"I did? Where'd I get it?"

  
"Savile Row."

Jared let out a low whistle in appreciation. "I have good taste."

Jensen reached out a hand for Jared to hold, revealing a new addition to his wrist. Jared took the proffered hand to better appraise it. "Did I get you the watch, too?"

"As a matter of fact, you did."

Jared grinned and held onto the hand. "I'm spoiling you."

The moment was savored by all parties for a moment. Icarus amused himself hunting through the discarded wrappings looking for more bones to add to an impressive collection. Jared was observed to be spoiling him as well.

Jensen picked up a discarded newspaper with his free hand while Jared scoffed softly. "We know as much about the murder as they do, and we aren't even trying. Oh, and I'm a hero who's been shot twice in the Tribune."

Jensen replied distractedly, "You were shot five times in the tabloids, and I'm beside myself with grief at your hospital bed."

Jared squeezed his hand in sympathy. "Well, of course you are. But don't worry, sugar. He didn't come anywhere near my tabloids."

The phone ringing spared Jared any retaliatory strikes, although answering the call required getting up. Even a view from on high didn't help, so Jared sent paper flying in all directions.

Jensen looked in disgust at such vulgar displays, reached his hand out into the chaos, and came back out with the phone receiver. Jared would never, in a million years of study, fail to be fascinated by the trick or able to mimic it. Jensen murmured that the phone should send someone up and returned the receiver to the pile to start work on buttoning his shirt.

"Who's coming up?"

"That lawyer again. Mac — ?"

"That so? Wonder what he'll want. Have you seen the mail?"

Jensen obligingly conjured up the post for his grateful husband while tucking in his shirt.

Jared flipped through the telegrams. "Whoever the Kripkes are, they wish us a Merry."

Jensen cursed. "I knew I'd forgotten someone!"

Jensen had stood to join Jared and remove the wool coat. Jared hardly noticed as the next telegram required sober contemplation, a state so unnatural that Jensen was alarmed enough to take the offending paper from him. Jensen also found the missive impressive.

"Sam Anderson wants you to investigate his wife's death and communicate through Ben Edlund."

"So I see."

Jensen noted the stations as got his jacket. "He's in Philadelphia? Why? Doesn't this mean he _didn't_ do it? If he wants you on the case?"

"I dunno." Jared was still under the impression it would require more sober contemplation.

"Would he ask you if he _was_ guilty? He must know you wouldn't help out a murderer." Jensen broke out the pleading eyes and mouth. "Aw, Jared, take the case."

Jared was spared further cheap manipulations by the buzzer announcing the lawyer. "You take the case," he called over his shoulder, brandishing the pistol to accentuate his point. "I'm too busy."

Mac was slightly alarmed to be greeted by a fully armed Texan in a smoking jacket. Jared laughed good-naturedly. "Yeah, sorry about that — and the mess — we were just finished open — "

Jared turned to indicate the sea of wrapping paper to discover that elves had appeared to take it away. Jensen was sitting on the chaise, still contemplating the damned telegram. Jensen's shirt was now buttoned and a suit jacket had replaced the wool coat, which was now draped casually over the chaise.

Mac walked over to the sofa and made himself at home. "Well, I'm glad to see that news of your 'terrible injury' was untrue."

Jared waved it off, ignoring the flinch the pistol received. "Oh, I'm fine."

He looked behind the sofa but the elves weren't there. "It's barely a scratch."

Mac took out a telegram. "I've received word from Anderson."

"Oh so have we — er, Jared has, rather," said Jensen, happy to have found someone to play.

Jared contented himself with looking behind the chaise for the elves. Jensen's mouth twitched, but didn't reveal any secrets.

Mac, being a lawyer, didn't comment on the elf hunt, and remained business bound. "What are the chances of getting you to do what he wants?"

  
"Slim." Jared admitted, hovering next to Jensen.

"Oh!" Jensen let out a frustrated noise and took it out on Jared's bandaged ribs again with a well placed elbow. Jared sat down hard on the chaise next to him to let the freight train have right of way.

When the roaring stopped, Mac was explaining that Anderson had left a coded message to put in the papers. Mac had done so and hoped the errant professor showed as it was beginning to look bad to be absent for so long. Jared found enough of a voice to murmur agreeing noises.

"I told that police lieutenant that it wasn't at all unusual for Anderson, but he obviously knows his wife's dead. It doesn't look quite right for him to stay away."

"When did you talk to the police?" Jensen asked while Jared recovered enough to resume looking for the elves.

"Almost immediately — say, you really don't know, do you? Mimi's the one that found the body."

Jensen looked confused. "Mimi went to the secretary's apartment? Why? Leighton broke up her marriage — and why isn't _Mimi_ the prime suspect?"

Mac looked surprised by Jensen's rapid questions and sharp tone. Lawyers always seemed to underestimate Jensen, a fact Jared had previously seen his husband use to his advantage. As it was, Jared was more than happy to let Jensen handle Mac. Mac was better than most, but he was still an attorney and still seemingly determined to pull Jared in on this. Mac gave Jensen an appraising look and set about answering.

"She went to try and get money out of Leighton. She's not a suspect because the apartment cleaning ladies saw her go in and heard the screams almost immediately. Mimi told the police I'd been giving Leighton money."

Jared expressed his succinct opinion on how amusing that must have appeared. Mac smiled back.

"Oh yes, they were quite interested. But I have documentation that this was the way Anderson wanted his funds delivered, and that I certainly wasn't made aware of any disagreements between the two."

Jared's older instincts stirred. "But someone _was_ aware of disagreements?"

Something like embarrassment passed through Mac's eyes as he admitted, "The housekeeping staff reported what was an 'amazing row' between them the last night anyone in New York saw Anderson."

"About what?" asked Jensen.

"I've no idea," Mac said, obviously uncomfortable with his ignorance. "Sam stood me up when I left here yesterday. I was still waiting at the Plaza hotel when my office tracked me down for the police. They asked me questions then and again last night. They want to know about Leighton and Baldwin — seems they liked him for it. I can tell you there was quite the excitement when the call came that he was here. What was that sort doing here anyway?"

"Telling us he didn't kill anyone and asking if the police were framing him or just suspicious," Jared answered.

"You forgot the 'holding us at gunpoint' and 'shooting you' parts," Jensen reminded him.

"But they had to let Baldwin go — they said because you wouldn't press charges?" Mac asked.

Jared nodded his agreement, while Jensen rolled his eyes to show what he thought of the idea. Mac looked as if he shared Jensen's point of view but continued without comment.

"Well, it put Baldwin in a fine mood. Long enough for him to provide an alibi. That Lieutenant says it checks out — I say," he said as Jared checked under the tree, "have you lost something?"

"Oh no," Jensen assured him, demonstrating how uncannily he understood the workings of Jared's mind. "He's just looking for the elves."

Jensen then picked up the ringing phone while the other two stared at him.

"It's the police for you," he informed Mac as he handed over the phone.

The news was obviously shocking and not good. Mac made hasty assurances that he was on his way to Grand Central and shook as he hung up the phone.

"Could I get a drink?"

Jensen moved to oblige, and Mac looked over at Jared. "The police found Sam. Dead. Probable suicide."

Jared reeled slightly. "What? Where is — was he?"

"Allentown apparently." Mac took the drink from Jensen and downed it without comment. "Well, that's that, then. You're truly out of it now."

"Suicide being a confession of guilt?" Jensen asked.

"What else?" Mac said sadly. "Nothing to do now but mop up the mess."

He excused himself and left.

Jensen frowned at Jared, "I'm not the detective, but — "

"Something just isn't right?" Jared sighed.

Jensen helped him off the sofa. "Exactly. Why send a telegram telling us to work with the lawyer and then commit suicide? Why kill Leighton at all?"

"Nothing about this case — including the insistence in involving me — makes any sense. But — " He grinned and kissed his husband quickly, "it's not going to get any clearer until we get dressed and start investigating."

Jensen grinned and put his new wool coat on with a flair. "About damn time."

  
 _A short Scene of Walking Icarus, Occurring in the Late Morning of Christmas_  
 _  
_  
As their hotel room was apparently no place to talk privately, Jensen and Jared decided to walk Icarus over to the Andersons' apartment. They were also well aware of the dashing picture they made in their matching gray suits and fedoras. Jensen's new coat was similar to Jared's own camel-colored coat, and the pair were drawing admiring glances from all parties in the lobby. Jensen held Icarus' leash and offered Jared his arm as they set off.

Icarus was inspecting his third tree when Lieutenant Morgan caught up with them. The lieutenant had managed to change into an off-the-rack, but still quite presentable, caramel suit with chocolate pinstripes and a matching chocolate hat. He'd even made obvious attempts to tame the beard. Jared was amused by the pleased noise Jensen gave at the sight.

"Misters Ackles," he began civilly enough.

"Here to ask us about the gun some more?" Jensen asked. Apparently good looks did not overcome all of the annoyance.

Morgan shook his head. "Get off it. There was no gun. I know it, you know it. Look, I spent Christmas Eve looking at dead bodies and talking to crazy people keeping secrets from me. I was sore. I'm sorry, okay?"

Jared and Jensen looked at each other, and Jared squeezed his husband's hand to indicate they should be forgiving on Christmas, — especially to tall detectives who looked like candy.

Morgan continued, "Even ex-altar boys can change their minds."

Jensen smiled, and they were all pals. They started walking again. Icarus took that as an indication to head to the next tree, dragging slightly on Jensen. Jared and Morgan followed and proceeded slightly ahead while Jensen convinced Icarus to proceed to the next item, a parking meter. The entire party inch-wormed in this fashion up the block.

"So is Anderson really dead?" Jensen asked.

Morgan shook his head. "Nah. The Allentown PD already cleared it by the time my guy got there with the lawyer to make the ID. The lawyer confirmed it. The poor bastard just fit Anderson's general description."

Jared shared a sympathetic look. "You're going to get more of those if you don't find Anderson soon."

"Don't I know it. Where we headed?" Morgan asked.

"The Andersons," Jared said. "I'm tired of people just showing up assuming I'm working for them."

Morgan looked thoughtful. "Well if you actually aren't, I could get the department to agree to take you on as a consultant. We already know you worked for Anderson before, and god knows, I could use the help with that family."

Jensen looked over. "The mother is just ... unpleasant. Truly, truly unpleasant."

Jared nodded solemnly and shot Morgan a look so he would understand what a condemnation that was coming from Jensen. Morgan did understand, from the looks of it. "She also took something from the crime scene. I'd bet my badge on it."

"Any idea what?" Jared asked.

"No. But I don't think it was the murder weapon. The coroner reported that there were bruises on Leighton's hand like she'd been holding a braided chain postmortem, but no such object was found — what is it?"

Jensen had caught a reaction in Jared and had stopped completely. "You know what it is."

Jensen simply didn't know how to play the game, dammit. Being open and honest with the police was fine, but didn't necessarily mean being open and honest abouteverything _right away_. Jared could see that he'd have to explain things more fully. It was also a problem that Jensen knew him too well to be fooled by Jared's game face. Morgan had been, but he was too good a detective not to realize something was there now.

Jared sighed. "Anderson's refinement process. The one that made the family fortune? He had a distinctive watch chain made — copper, gold, silver, and iron — done up as a braided chain. It's one of a kind."

Morgan processed that tidbit for awhile as Icarus began pulling them forward again. "Well that's likely, but it does me no good if Mimi took it. Why would she, though? She and Anderson were over with for years. She's on to others."

Jensen was still being open. "Mimi still needs Anderson's money. From what I gathered as I was pushing her out the door, my money's on blackmail. She wants Anderson to pay to keep the chain out of play."

"But if she's got the chain, it's only her word it was ever there."

Jared and Jensen gave him a pitying look. Jared said softly, "Look here, old son, you're applying logic — "

"I know, I know, but I wish people would stop and think. Not that thinking seems to be a major habit for _that_ family. That son gave me and four of the toughest boys the willies. Sat there calmly and asked if she'd been _raped_ of all things. And then asked if we looked for evidence of it happening _after_ the girl was dead."

"Never trust tidy men in bowler hats," Jensen proclaimed.

"Amen, brother," Morgan affirmed. "But look, are the Andersons the only place to look? 'Cause I've got men looking there. I was kinda hoping you'd have something _new_ to follow."

Jensen's attitude was alarmingly contagious because Jared found himself answering. "The only other source of information I got is some fella who called during the party."

"Who?"

"I dunno. But he was the only call into the room once the party got going. If you got the hotel switchboard to look, it would be the one right before the call out to San Francisco."

"San Francisco?" Jensen asked.

"Oh, yes, darling, didn't I mention that? Remember the blubbery fellow? He needed to call his mother in San Francisco to stop crying." Jared figured the best course of action was disclosure in front of an armed member of law enforcement.

Jensen's mouth smirked, bless its bedeviled soul. "Of course he did. Sorry to interrupt. What about the other call?"

"Oh, yes," Jared looked back at Morgan, who showed signs of physically restraining himself from interrupting. "So this fella calls up and says he can sell me 'insurance' for evidence in Leighton's murder, and that you — the police — were looking to the wrong guy."

"Which we were," Morgan admitted, "until we got Adam Baldwin's alibi and collaborated it. What else did he say?"

"Nothing. The damn line went dead, and he never called back."

"Maybe he did and couldn't get through from San Francisco," Jensen murmured, but Jared ignored it as Morgan was breaking away.

"I'm going to go check on that call now," the eye candy explained as it hurried off. Jared twitched as his instincts developed a sweet tooth and screamed to follow him.

Jensen took pity and started to declare, "I can handle the Andersons — "

After Jared's enthusiastic kiss, he warned, " — but don't you dare leave me stranded for too long!"


	5. Wherein Jared and Jensen Are Private Detectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Containing scenes with a depressing amount of depressing plot and crazy people, offset by Jensen and kisses in the snow.  
> Christmas Day, 1934

_Various Scenes with a Distinct Lack of Goodwill Towards Man, Occurring on Christmas Afternoon_

Jared found that all police detective desks were much the same and felt disturbingly comfortable at Morgan's. The lieutenant had been true to his word and had gotten Jared a consultant status and allowed him to rummage through the files.

Jared's hands found the thin white copies of the report on Anderson with no problem. The paper was thin to better allow the carbon copies to be made, and Jared was whimsical enough to find the fragile state fitting for the fragile lives they described.

The paper was held at arms' length, as the scent of carbon tended to remind Jared of shelling. The story was bloody enough as it was. It began the previous September, when Anderson had ordered the lab and upper offices of his company shut down.

This had been done in the organized and unhurried fashion Jared remembered Anderson having. The thin sheets in the file noted that Anderson's last day in New York broke that pattern.

He had arranged from a car to pick him up from the lab to take him to the train station. Interviews with Vanessa and Zac confirmed they had visited to tell Anderson of their engagement and been told he was on his way to the station. The car had arrived as they left but Anderson, according to the driver, had changed the destination and returned to his apartment instead.

Once Anderson arrived at the apartment, the police file could not tell Jared any specific details. Anderson had dismissed the car service upon arrival, and no canvas had yet produced another cab picking him up. Jared knew from memory that when Anderson was annoyed he tended towards the curt and dismissive.

Here, Anderson's file began overlapping with Leighton's, as evidenced by the carbon smudges appearing on Jared's fingers. He wiped them absentmindedly on the blotter, noticing evidence that Morgan did the same, and moved to Leighton's file.

The apartment staff reported Anderson and Leighton had argued, and that Anderson had left in a rage walking down the street. None of the staff had seen Anderson on Christmas Eve before the murder, but Leighton had told people she expected him for the holiday. Vanessa and Zac were also expecting him for the wedding on the thirtieth. Jared knew from experience that while Anderson might have not been prompt, he wouldn't have forgotten completely about a promise to Vanessa.

The sheet containing the pertinent information about the morning of Leighton's murder was well worn. Jared felt certain Morgan could replicate it perfectly from memory, not that it contained much useful information. The morning of the murder, housekeeping had arrived and heard a man and woman arguing in the apartment. The tenant across the hall was also still in and had a record player on high volume. Not wanting to intrude on either, housekeeping had gone to the next floor. When they returned later, they rode the elevator up with Mimi. They were across the hall with the door open and heard Mimi's screams.

There were notes scrawled in what Jared assumed passed for penmanship in police circles. He couldn't decipher the glyphs, but he assumed they were indications of a male suspect and the timeline clearing Mimi.

Jared skipped the coroner's report and pulled at the various slips of note paper. Notes from the beat cops had yet to be typed neatly, and Jared found this the most fruitful of all.

A rookie named Frankel had interviewed the apartment crew. Frankel was an eager sort, like the young men first arriving at the front, full of optimism and dedication to detail. All hotel staff names, home addresses, length of employment, known ties to the victim, known ties to each other, and routine work patterns were painstakingly detailed before any questions were asked. The front desk had no record of a visitor to Leighton's apartment, and the only other way into the building was a locked residents door.

While Frankel had filled his notebook, the more veteran Connolly had gone through the victim's keys and found the resident's door. As Leighton's key to that door was still in her purse on its ring, Connolly asked a passing housekeeper and was pleased to discover a male suspect known to have keys — Anderson, as his name was on the lease.

The housekeeper revealed his name was also on Leighton, although she'd adopted the modern style and kept her own name. Connolly then proceeded to the taxi stand and, one smoke and gossip session later, had learned Baldwin also had a key, as he'd previously provided the rent money. Leighton hadn't minded being a Baldwin, apparently.

Connolly also gathered that the fight in September between Anderson and Leighton had been centered on Baldwin, who had come calling again. These notes were merged with Frankel's as the pair had left the apartment to the coroner and gone to Anderson's labs.

A note with the succinct verdict "nothing" indicated that the police search of Anderson's studio, offices and labs had found no indication Anderson had returned since September. It also indicated that Frankel had picked up some pointers from Connolly on the way from the hotel. Jared found himself rather enamored of Frankel and Connolly.

Jared sighed at the papers in his hands. He'd liked Anderson well enough when he worked for him, but he knew that the absent mindedness was a misconception. Anderson had a sharp mind, but simply didn't _care_ about social details likes names and people. Consequently, he promptly forgot them and dates and times for appointments that similarly disinterested him. But Anderson had had a mean temper when aroused. If the police theory was true, and Anderson had suddenly noticed Leighton's renewed relations with Baldwin, Jared thought the old man might actually be capable of murder.

Waiting three months to decide the best way to commit such actions was also a very Anderson-ish thought. It was the current game of hide and seek and the insistence that Jared play along that was baffling. The entire thing depressed Jared too much to contemplate without a cocktail or Jensen.

Morgan came up with a dangerous smile. "You know a fella named Nicolas Lea?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact," Jared said. After all, who was going to forget a rat like that? "An information broker."

Morgan nodded. "One of ours too. Seems he's decided you've got a better payroll and benefits plan. He hasn't called into _us_ with any offers."

Jared understood the dangerous smile now and returned it. "Well, that's just unfair. You boys have a great benefits plan."

They grabbed their hats and coats. Morgan said, "I'm going to remind him of it right now."

  
-——————-  
Christmas at the Lea residence was not going well. Jared and Morgan could hear a couple arguing as they approached the apartment door. Morgan's simple knock received a deafening silence, which made both men grin. Morgan actually laughed at having to knock twice.

"I know you're home, Lea. She's right, you know. You _are_ a no-good, two-timing — "

The door opened abruptly. The rat was just as oily and shifty as Jared remembered him. Nature had done its best to make him an attractive man, and, as Jared recalled, women found him so, but Jared himself found the corrupt looks and sneering charm unattractive. Lea made an effort to feign humanity and finger comb his hair and tuck his shirt in.

Neither Jared nor Morgan were fooled.

"Hey, Lieutenant. I just wasn't expecting — " The informant's eyes widened at the sight of Jared, and his voice trailed off. Jared allowed himself to take up the entire doorway and smile invitingly at what he was going to consider Lea's wife. A brilliant redhead who was too beautiful for the likes of Lea, the wife was quite happy to smile back.

"I'm Jared Ackles," Jared said politely.

"Hello, Jared, I'm Gillian," she purred back.

Morgan started in before Lea could do anything more than glare at the pair. "My boys asked if you had heard anything about Leighton Meester. You said you didn't."

  
The cornered rat was just as pathetic and dangerous as the metaphor suggested. Jared braced for some break for the door, but the snitch tried to hold the line. "That's the truth of it."

Gillian sneered. "Hadn't heard anything!"

Lea snapped, "You open your mouth, I'll pop you in it."

The knight errant in Jared prompted him to move between the rat and maiden fair. The veteran in him had him rapidly finding cover, as the "maiden fair" was a legitimate redhead with a temper to match. The frying pan flying overhead attested to the fact that Gillian could handle her own battles.

"Oh, yeah, you think you can? Come and try. You think I don't know who you go and see? I've had enough." Another, even larger, pan flew, prompting Morgan to join Jared in his foxhole by the table. The rat scurried and hid across the room from the attack.

Apparently, no other frying pans could be found, and Gillian stormed to the bedroom with a trail of curses. Jared noted a couple of clever ones for future use. The one was anatomically impossible, but the imagery was irresistible. He looked forward to Jensen's face when he used it. The bedroom door fought valiantly for a few moments but finally collapsed off its hinges at the abuse.

The three representatives of the male gender slowly peeked out of their hiding places to see if the coast was clear. They stood in mutual contemplation of the off hinged door as the muffled imprecations continued from the other side. They eyed one another silently.

Then an unfortunately high nervous giggle manifested in the room, and, after a moment Jared determined Lea was the source and not himself. Morgan's candy fantasy-inducing suit was rumpled once again, and trying to straighten it put the lieutenant in a foul mood. He turned an ominous look to the informant.

"N—now look, M—morgan," stammered the rat, looking to scurry away. The front door and window were cut off by his guests, and the only other way out of the room contained a ferocious redhead. There was no telling what sort of implements she could let fly in a bedroom. Jared wouldn't have excluded the dresser. The rat attempted to talk his way out, but the stammering took on a life of its own. After several minutes, what emerged from the stops and starts was, "She's got it wrong. I wasn't seeing Leighton, I was following Baldwin just like you cops asked me to. _He_ was the one seeing Leighton."

Morgan stopped fussing at his suit and attempted to pick him up and shake the stutters away. "So where were you when Leighton was killed? Following him still? What did you see?"

Jared was curious to see if shaking would improve or worsen stuttering, but they were interrupted as the valkyrie returned. This time, the bedroom door came completely off its hinges but didn't even slow her down. Gillian, it appeared, had had enough of life with rats and had donned her best blue satin suit, with matching hat and shoes, and put her game face on.

The finished picture was worthy of appreciation, so Jared gave it his best wolf whistle. She took the compliment with a defiant smile, while Morgan looked dumbfounded by either the view or Jared's acknowledgement of it. There was no time to find out, as the rat began groveling and sniveling. But Gillian had her bags packed and would, by god, be leaving for good this time. In the interest of protecting the architecture, Jared held the front door for her.

  
Without his lady fair, the groveling and sniveling turned onto Morgan, who just had to let him go after her and explain. After all, it was just his job, and it put money on the table, right? She'd understand if he got the chance to explain.

"Explain it to me first. Where were you yesterday? What did you see?"

Lea's demeanor changed to one of defeat, and he focused on Morgan half-heartedly. "Oh. _Oh_. Yeah, I can tell you. I can _show_ you."

Apparently needing something from the bedroom, Jared and Morgan watched with amusement as the bedroom door gave him more trouble than it had Gillian. Finally getting past it, he disappeared and was followed by a sound like a drawer opening.

After a beat, Morgan sighed. "He went out the bedroom fire escape, didn't he?"

Jared had already picked up the phone and was dialing the police station. "You should probably have him followed rather than picked up. It'll be interesting to see where he goes."

  
-——————-  
 _You should probably have him followed rather than picked up._  
 _  
_  
Morgan had taken the advice, and by the time they had returned to Morgan's office, word had Lea spotted in a nearby hotel lobby using the pay phones.

 _It'll be interesting to see where he goes._  
 _  
_  
Jared had been correct, it was interesting. Lea went to a closed shop, where he'd been shot multiple times by an unobserved assailant inside before his tail could react. Lea had still been alive when the first officers reached him but had bled out before saying anything. Jared, unfortunately, had enough first-hand experience to conjure a vivid image to torment himself with.

The cops were canvassing the area for clues while Lea lay in final repose in the morgue. A box of personal effects was being sorted, and the blood-drenched jacket earned a flinch every time it was moved. Jared sat quietly as he stifled the reactions as best he could and deliberately avoided touching the objects in a desperate attempt to keep himself sane. He thought he'd done a fairly decent job keeping it secret from the others, but Morgan wasn't fooled. Jared really needed to stop befriending such observant people.

Morgan had the sense not to comment on it, but rather had produced a glass and some fairly potent scotch from somewhere. After the third glass, Morgan produced a phone.

"Hello?" Jared mumbled into the phone.

"Stop blaming yourself for blackmailing informants who get murdered and come rescue me from this madhouse. Remember, I control the hooch allowance."

"There's no reason to get into a lather."

"You are scaring Morgan, and I've had enough of these people. Even Vanessa."

"Vanessa? Why? What's she done?"

"She keeps trying to kick Zac and I out because her father might be a murderer. Also, bring Morgan. I may have another suspect."

"What? Why the — Who's the new — " Jared sighed. "We'll be right over."

"That's a good wife," Jensen said as he hung up and left Jared glaring at the receiver.

"Am I part of the 'we'? Why do I have to go back there?" Morgan asked, staring oddly at Jared.

"Jensen says he's found another suspect. And why are you looking at me like that? Stop it. Jensen will get jealous."

Jared was either off his game, or Morgan was learning to flirt, as the teasing barely got a flicker of the eyes. "You're all right now. Your color's back."

Jared was spared responding, as the drink in his hand demanded attention. Jensen had that effect on him, not that many people noticed. "Probably just the scotch. You made me go almost an hour without." He glared ferociously.

Morgan wasn't fooled. "You keep telling yourself that," he said as they got their coats and hats. "Let's go see what the detective found out while we girls were out shopping."

Jared laughed and felt almost human again as he followed him out.

  
 _A Scene with Crazy People, Still Occurring on Christmas Afternoon — just Later_  
 _  
_  
No sounds of loud arguments or flying frying pans greeted Morgan and Jared as they approached the Andersons apartment. This was a higher class of neighborhood, so Jared suspected the walls were just thicker. The doorbell produced no results for a full minute and Morgan was preparing to use his fist when the door finally opened to reveal Jensen.

Jared shook off the last of his melancholy to gape slightly at his husband. Jensen's eyes were unfocused and not acknowledging Morgan's aborted attempt to knock on his forehead. His hair showed signs of hands running through it, and his tie was not so much undone as twisted to the side. Jared found himself grabbed by his own neckwear and unceremoniously yanked into the room.

Morgan's presence was evidentially required at the bar, and he made his way straight to it without removing his hat or coat. Jared's face was under scrutiny, and Jared surmised he was not to move until judgment was passed. The choice of verdict seemed to be Jensen drawing strength from his presence, or as the hand was still attached to his tie, perhaps Jensen would strangle him. He kissed Jensen's nose to sway the jury.

"You look — " Jared straightened Jensen's tie. " — well, ravishing, quite honestly, but that's probably just 'rattled' in disguise."

The kiss was not returned, nor comment made, but as Jared's tie was released on its own recognizance, Jared considered himself found innocent. Curious to see how close the jury verdict had been, Jared's coat and hat landed haphazardly on the sideboard. This was not even awarded a raised eyebrow. Icarus bounded up the sofa and leapt into his arms, the better to wash his master's face. This behavior had been discussed before and had been found uncouth. However, no condemnations were forthcoming.

Jared was becoming convinced Jensen was terminally ill and not telling him when Jensen spotted Morgan eyeing a cocktail pitcher on the bar. Moving quickly, Jensen snatched the pitcher and held it in an alarmingly loving fashion.

"This one's mine," Jensen flatly stated. "You can make your own."

Morgan quietly proceeded to do just that, not caring about Jared's evident amusement.

"You forget," Morgan responded to the grin, "I spent yesterday with them."

Zac was spotted in the corner as Icarus was put down so Jared's own cocktail could be mixed. The poor sap hadn't even acknowledged Jared and Morgan's arrival but sat next to Milo as they both stared at a bedroom door.

Jared waited until Jensen had the pitcher to his mouth to nudge him. When Jensen stopped spluttering long enough to glare at him, Jared inquired, "So what happened to our young squire over there?"

"And who's this new suspect?" Morgan asked, his police sensibilities skewing his priorities.

Jensen took another drink directly from the pitcher and chose to answer Morgan first. "So Mimi pressured Anderson for money, as it was Anderson's fault Mimi didn't have any. She decided he should pay the rent and utilities as well as the monthly allowance. He agreed."

They all took a drink to that logic, and Jensen continued. "Apparently that arrangement's been _working_ for a little under a year. Anderson's paid for everything — in cash, no less. Until Anderson left in late September, and Leighton never sent the monthly stipend."

"The landlord's noticed the lack of funding and is threatening to kick them out for New Year's. Mimi called Leighton that night and then stormed out and wasn't seen or heard from until she found the body — "

A harpy flew in from the other room and interrupted him with a screech, "That doesn't mean anything, you gossiping bastard!"

Mimi was now in a red dressing gown with black feather trim. Jensen responded to the sight and the screeching by draining the rest of the pitcher. Jared stepped slightly behind his husband to rub his back in sympathy, and certainly not to hide, no matter what the look Morgan gave him implied. Icarus either objected to her tone of voice or had mistaken her for a large squeak toy and was growling and yapping at her.

Morgan decided on the best defense for harpies and launched his own offensive. "You didn't find it relevant information to share? You fought with the murder victim and have no alibi for your whereabouts?"

"Well why would it be relevant?" Mimi protested as she ignored Icarus and dismissed Morgan with a imperial wave. "It was the night before. The housekeepers knew I didn't have time. Besides — why would I want Leighton dead now? Sam was a miserable husband; she was welcome to him! I just want my money!"

"Except that she wasn't sharing the dough. If you weren't involved, why hide it? I need more than your word. I want to know where you were _before_ the housekeepers saw you. Did you go see Leighton? Did she refuse to pay your blackmail? Was it the final straw?"

Morgan's badge was big enough to protect him from a direct, physical attack, but she obviously considered it anyway. "You can't think — I — _no_! You want proof? I'll show you proof who the _real_ murderer is!"

With yet another screech, the harpy disappeared into another bedroom with a billowing of red satin and feathers. Soon, shouting from the other side of the door indicated both Vanessa's presence and her objections to Mimi's current course of action. Mimi was unmoved by cajoling not to do anything rash.

Morgan looked at Jensen, who was resolutely making himself another pitcher of cocktails. "That chain we were discussing earlier?"

Jensen nodded without ever stopping the cocktail poured down his throat and leaned into Jared. Jared leaned right on back in and clinked his glass to the pitcher in a silent toast to one hell of a Christmas. Morgan looked on in sympathy and waited for Jensen to finish off the pitcher and start another mix before holding up a hand to request more detail.

"It's Anderson's chain, all right," Jensen confirmed ominously. "Mimi went to Leighton's looking for either Anderson or more money. She found the chain in Leighton's hand and snagged it. She came back thinking to blackmail Anderson, but Milo," Jensen's pitcher indicated the sofa where Milo sat with Zac, "apparently pointed out that her actions were suspicious."

All three contemplated the ever-tidy Milo, who was too intent in his own study of the shouting match between his sister and mother to notice. He wore a similar suit to the one he'd had on at the party, and Jared had to admit the cut suited him, but the entire appearance was too perfect and sterile. It gave Jared the willies.

"There's something — off — about him," Jensen coincidentally confirmed. "He apparently asked you about Leighton being assaulted because his readings led him to believe that if the killer knew her, he would be the kind to use that 'type of persuasion' with women."

" _Persuasion_?" Jared asked. Morgan and Jensen both nodded.

"He apparently started reading those psychological books in order to study something called an 'Oedipus complex'," Morgan supplied. "I looked it up. Don't do that."

Jensen made a face. "Already familiar with the concept, thanks for that."

Jared's mind tried to remind him of the relevant Greek myth, but he suppressed the memory with a long drink from his cocktail, draining the glass. Jensen obligingly refilled it as Jared asked, "And what the hell happened to Vanessa and Zac?"

Jensen held his pitcher against his temple. "Damned if I know. When I came in, she seemed to be convinced her father did it, that Zac was either in danger or better off without her, and now, she doesn't trust anyone but Milo, as he's all the 'true' family she has left."

Jared cursed and said, "It's completely balled up. But our fella Zac's goofy for her. He'll throw her over the shoulder and drag her off to the cave to see sense soon enough."

Jensen rolled his eyes. "I will never understand those people — can't they just make pretty babies and be done with it?"

Morgan made a strangled noise but didn't stop drinking. Jensen grinned at him until he blushed and searched for a new topic. Instead, his eyes met Jared's, and the earlier confusion returned for investigation.

"Hey, what's the deal with you flirting with women?"

Jensen did a neat spit take, while Jared glared at Morgan. "Yes, Jared," laughed Jensen. "What's the deal with you flirting with women?"

Jared defended himself. "The dame walked out of her marriage with her dignity and looked good doing it! It was just a whistle!"

"But I thought — " Morgan searched for the words he'd never had to learn. "I mean, you took Jensen's name — that makes you, you know, the _wife,_ doesn't it?"

  
"He's adorable," Jared observed as the lieutenant's mind wrapped around the new dual concept.

"That's what you said about Icarus," Jensen answered, unimpressed. "And I'm the one who has to feed and clean up —"

Mimi and Vanessa entered with an admirable performance of two cats fighting over the same mouse. It was a grand entrance, even if it did interrupt Jensen's comment, and was given the riveted attention it deserved from all parties in the room.

A far more experienced veteran of cat fights, Mimi won the battle quickly and bore down on Morgan with renewed determination. Vanessa collapsed sobbing on the sofa next to Milo, and Zac reached over to her. Mimi reached the men and triumphantly shoved the chain into Morgan's face.

"I took this from Leighton Meester's hand," she sobbed, suddenly the portrait of distress, "It was Sam's. I just wanted to protect him."

"So you say," Morgan answered noncommittedly. "But as you removed this from a crime scene and have already signed your statement, the only thing it does is put you on the hook for obstruction."

Mimi was shocked at the suggestion. It was not to be believed. "What? No, I —"

"— Thought you'd use it as leverage?" supplied Jared. "No dice, lady. You've done your damnedest to be in this, and now you are."

Mimi recoiled and landed hard and silently on the barstool, mercifully silent. All three men strove to keep her that way and ignored her as another drama began across the room. Jared wished they had blocked the staging for such dramatics better; his neck was getting sore from all the pivoting.

"Just go _away_ , Zac!" Vanessa suddenly exclaimed as she jumped up away from Zac. "I can't do this. Just go away!"

Zac turned an angry red and shouted back. "Why are you punishing me for what your father's done? I'm trying to _help,_ if you'd just let me!"

The men at the bar winced, and Jared sighed. Zac was never going to win a lover's spat with something as inappropriate as the truth. How did he expect to be a good husband with _that_ kind of thinking? Sure enough, Vanessa rounded on him with flashing eyes. And despite the fact that she barely reached his shoulder in her heels, Zac had enough sense to retreat from the approaching juggernaut.

"Oh!" Vanessa exclaimed. "So you _do_ think Father killed Leighton!"

"Dammit, that's not what I meant. And you think he might have too! I'm just — "

"Oh I see what you're just — ! Well, you don't need to worry about appearances anymore! I'm not marrying you, so you're out of it!"

She became hysterical and twisted at the ring on her finger. Morgan was studiously ignoring all the murder accusations, and Jared threw him a grateful look and nod as he followed Jensen over. Mimi barely registered the outburst and was fixing herself a drink.

Zac was staring in shock and had stopped speaking; Jared wasn't entirely certain the boy could breathe. Jared pressed a drink to his hands, and Vanessa began shouting.

"We're done. I'm not marrying you or _anyone_. That would be a fine thing. Have a couple of murderers for children!"

Milo finally stood and crossed to his sister. "Maybe — " Vanessa continued ranting, " — maybe they would kill each other and keep it in the family. That would be tidy. No. From now on, I'm in it for the ride. You're a swell fella, Zac, but you're not that fun."

Zac turned mutinous, and Milo gripped Vanessa. Milo leaned and whispered something in her ear which broke the hysteria. With a sister sobbing into his ever-tidy suit, Milo was transformed into a caring man of the family. A suggestion that perhaps the guests might go was boisterously decried by Zac, but the Ackles and Morgan's vote carried the motion. Even Icarus appeared just as eager to leave, as demonstrated by a heretofore unknown ability to heel properly.

What the departure lacked in grace was compensated by efficiency, and Icarus led the party out of the apartment building. The fight left Zac with the street. He reminded Jared of soldiers who hadn't quite realized they'd been shot.

"I'll get him home," Morgan said. He was effective at manhandling broken-hearted boys into squad cars, and Jared wondered where he practiced. "I'm going to call in and heighten the alert on Anderson. Inadmissible or not, I can't just ignore that chain. He's the official suspect."

Jensen and Jared made a handsome, if melancholy, picture standing on the corner with Icarus, watching them drive away. There were a multitude of emotions to describe the moment, but the simplest one was exhaustion.

"Sleuthing isn't as fun as I'd thought it would be," Jensen said, unknowingly agreeing with Jared. He looked up to say more and was startled by the weather. "Oh. It's started to snow."

Snow had, in fact, already found its way to both their shoulders. Smiles warm enough to melt it were accompanied by loving hands brushing it off. Ties were straightened, and lapels were made to lay flat. Anyone who would point out they could have done it themselves missed the point of marriage.

Jared washed a freckle from Jensen's cheekbone and found a smile. Jensen pushed their hats back and pulled Jared's face down. With their foreheads together and their breathing slowing to a unified rhythm, they stood silently in the falling snow for a few moments.

Jared chuckled as he looked somewhat sheepishly at Jensen. "Merry Christmas?"

Jensen's mouth fought a losing battle to contain a grin. "Certainly got what I asked for." His eyes grew serious. "Never enough words. _Never_."

 _Never enough words to say how much I love you; never enough days to spend showing you —_ The quote from their wedding vows deserved a kiss and got one. The kiss itself was awarded two honks from a passing car, and they broke apart snickering.

Jared squeezed his hand. "Where to now?"

Jensen was full of renewed determination and purpose. "We are going home, locking ourselves in, getting blotto and engaging in all kinds of nookie."

And if there existed a better way to celebrate Christmas, Jared had yet to hear it.


	6. Wherein Jared and Jensen Indulge in Activities of Dubious Legality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Containing scenes of shameful delinquency and scheming.  
> December 26-27, 1934

_A Scene Contributing to the Delinquency of a Husband, Occurring on Boxing ~~Day~~ Evening_

  
By sunset of the following day, they were forced to feed themselves by the Astor's excellent housekeeping staff. A formidable woman named Helen appeared in all her five-two splendor, demanded to change the linens, and was not to be dissuaded from her anointed task. Jensen's usual hotel staff charm had proven ineffective against a mother of six.

Jensen was, of course, found to be adorable, and Jared would need to watch out for him. If not, Helen would steal Jensen and spoil him rotten. Such good-natured ribbing complete with hair ruffling had made the doorway seem a better strategic position.

Jensen was made of sterner stuff and held his ground until the lotion bottle on the nightstand was discovered. Helen clucked her tongue at such oily lotion, as it was obviously the wrong type entirely for Jensen's freckled skin. She found a far more suitable one in the cart and proclaimed it "lubricious". In the next breath, she began exclaiming over the state of the bed linens.

A hasty retreat to the balcony seemed the best course of action. Breakfast was convinced to appear in the evening, and they were enjoying the spectacular, if chilly, view. Icarus was fascinated with the balcony, as his canine mind had deemed the French doors to be a wall. He was quite impressed with Jensen's ability to break said wall and was far too interested in imitating his namesake to be trusted with the open railing. Jared sat with him firmly under one arm as he ate his breakfast with his free hand.

Jensen busied himself with ripping apart every form of newspaper the Astor had and sorting them into stacks. From what Jared could see, the stacks were useful, wrong and boring, wrong and entertaining, after Christmas sales, theater and clubs, and local news. Jensen finished sorting the last of them with a satisfied sigh. Jared hid a smile behind the last of his toast.

"Well, Morgan put up a reward. Five thousand for news leading to the capture of Sam Anderson. Last seen —" Jensen indicated three stacks. "Well, that depends. Some say he was seen in Leighton's apartment, some say Philadelphia, and my favorites have him in Bimini."

The grin was no longer hidden as Jared offered, "Maybe we should follow up on the Bimini leads personally. I doubt Morgan's budget will allow him to send men. We'd be — "

A sudden thought struck the rest of the sentence from him. Jensen seemed unsurprised by this, although Jared wasn't sure what that said about his normal morning conversational skills. He considered while Jensen sipped his coffee and waited patiently.

"That's wrong," Jared finally murmured, not entirely sure which item he'd come to a conclusion on.

"Bimini? I would hope so."

"No. _All_ of them. Anderson's actually never been seen at all. Or heard from. Not directly. It's all telegrams and phone calls to secretaries, isn't it?"

Jensen joined him in serious thought. "People saw him in September. Who saw him the day he left?"

"Vanessa and Zac said they'd been to see him. Mac must have — he has a document giving Leighton rights to the money."

"And only Leighton's heard from him since?" Jensen asked with a frown. "What about his business?"

Jared shook his head. "The police file said he closed everything down, which was unusual, even for these retreats of his. He's closed the lab before, but never the offices."

"The police surely would have checked his office."

"Yes, but only to see if he was there. They wouldn't have checked paperwork or such to see about his leaving. That was months ago. It's not relevant to their investigation."

"So why is it to yours?" Jensen studied his husband with a growing smile. "You've thought of something. You've seen something they missed. What was it?"

  
"Anderson," Jared said. "There's something odd. Anderson was screwy, but this? It's — " He trailed off.

" — The wrong kind of screwy?" Jensen suggested. "Like Uncle Peter."

Jared raised an eyebrow. "Uncle Peter?"

"Yes, Mother thought he was having an affair with his secretary because he kept working late."

"Your entire family works late," Jared pointed out.

"Yes, but Uncle Peter stopped working late at the office and started working late from home. He made the secretary come out to the house. Screwy — in the wrong way."

The old familiar feeling of a puzzle about to be solved arrived. "You've got it, I think. People are suspicious and want to know why Anderson is staying hidden. But that's the wrong question. It's _why did he go into hiding to begin with_? That's where the answer is!"

The puzzle needed more pieces, and Jared went to get dressed and go find them. Jensen seemed distracted by the breakfast tray that was threatening to crash to the floor. Jared realized with chagrin that he'd possibly been responsible for the sudden shift.

Undeterred, Jared reached the dressing room but couldn't locate the clothes from the previous day. They were not in the dressing room, bathroom hamper, or the suitcases. The dresser was in process of being cleared when Jensen's strangled cry interrupted. Jensen was standing in the bedroom door, staring in shock at Jared for unknown reasons.

Jared looked around and wondered when the monkeys had followed him in because he had certainly not made such a mess. Clothes that were not the clothes he'd worn yesterday had strung themselves in a path from the dressing room to where he now stood. Icarus, who Jared dimly remembered carrying in, seemed to be eating one of Jared's slippers on the bed.

Helen had gone and left the bed impeccable. At least, Jared assumed it was from what he could see of it before the monkeys had attacked it with clothes from the dresser. Having noted this inexplicable chaos, Jared grew aware of Jensen's continued staring. His husband's eyes, mouth — his entire _being_ — exuded disapproval. Jared's eyes and mouth pleaded innocence to any unauthorized actions.

"Jensen?" he asked plaintively, "Would you please make the room give me the clothes I was wearing yesterday?"

Without ever taking his gaze from Jared's, Jensen walked three steps into the room, knelt, and picked up Jared's jacket and pants from under the bed.

"You're holding your shirt," Jensen pointed out calmly, his mouth beginning to twitch. One day, Jared was going to have to find the words to properly express his appreciation for Jensen's mouth. He looked in his hand and discovered that he was, in fact, in possession of his shirt.

"You really must teach me that trick sometime," Jared groused. "It's not fair to make me throw everything around when you could just pick it up."

He grabbed the jacket before any of the indignant protests could be formed. He found what he was looking for in the jacket and tossed the keys in the air with a flourish.

Jensen smiled and asked, "Where'd you get those?"

"Mimi's purse."

"When did you even see Mimi's purse? I didn't — " Jensen broke off with a grin. "Sugar, I'll teach you how to see the clothes in front of your nose if you teach me how to pickpocket."

Jared gasped and attempted, with some success, to look appalled at the thought. His acting was rewarded with a genuine loud laugh, so he considered the performance outstanding.

"We'll discuss your lust for larceny later," Jared promised. "But first, we're going to work on our breaking and entering skills."

"You clean up this mess, and I'll get Icarus," Jensen stated, moving to retrieve slipper and dog. "We should dress for the occasion."

  
 _A Scene of Education and Enlightenment, Occurring on Boxing ~~Day~~ er, Night_

An argument could be made that a small white dog with a predilection towards yapping was not the best accessory for a break in. An argument could also be made that formal wear, although admittedly dark, was not the best attire for such endeavors. Jared was not the man to make such arguments to Jensen, however. Icarus was, apparently, a bloodhound of unparalleled caliber, and Jensen wished to go dining and dancing afterwards.

Accordingly, a hired car dropped them off in front of Anderson's lab well after respectable people were out of the district. Jensen and Icarus were thrilled and looked up at the building with great glee. Jared disproved of such rookie behavior.

"Now," Jared began his instruction in his best professorial manner, "Mimi and Andersonwere divorced, so Mimi might not have kept the key to the lab. But, if none of her keys fit — that would be when the 'breaking' portion of the exercise comes into play."

"Hmm." Jensen took the keys and walked Icarus to the door. With no seeming hesitation, he fitted one of the twenty keys on the ring and effortlessly opened the door. Jared's legs refused to move for a moment as his husband and dog cheerfully vanished into the darkened lab.

Reasserting control over his limbs, Jared entered the lab to reassert control over his case. Icarus was nowhere to be seen, while Jensen was found rummaging through the main desk.

"Anything?" Jared asked as he approached. "Do you even know what you're looking for?"

Jensen twirled his flashlight and grinned. "Well this is all written in chemistry. So, at the moment, I am looking for something _not_ written in chemistry."

Jared stifled a laugh. "That sounds like proper snooping etiquette. But if memory serves, Anderson had a business office in the back. We'll probably have better luck there."

Jensen shone his light towards the back of the lab and was pleased to announce that Jared was brilliant. Jared was not inclined to disagree and led the way. Jensen called for Icarus, who barked to indicate that he had no interest in back offices.

Both men used their flashlights to locate the wayward dog. Icarus was scratching at the floor by one of the smelting units. Jensen rolled his eyes and went to pick him up but stopped as Jared started moving his light over the floor.

"What is it?" Jensen asked as he scooped up Icarus.

"Our pooch _is_ a bloodhound," Jared announced proudly. This floor's newly poured. See? This patch of concrete is newer than the rest."

Jensen looked around and produced a length of rebar but didn't hand it over when Jared reached for it. "No. Take the gloves, scarf, and coat off. Lay them _neatly_ on the table and _then_ I will allow you to show off how manly you are."

Jared agreed with a smile and once the outer layers were off, even rolled up his sleeves for the best show. He was awarded with the rebar and he swung it into the flooring. After a few strikes, a hole appeared. The slab was covering a cavity underneath.

Jensen and Jared jostled for a view of what was in the hole. Jared protested, as it was his effort, and he should get the first view.

"Get over it. It's my first — "

Jensen's head snapped back and almost collided with Jared's, who would have protested more if he hadn't seen what caused the reaction. Jensen was already on his feet and moving to the back office so Jared had to hurry to catch up.

Jensen reached the office and grabbed the phone, not giving Jared a chance to speak.

"Lieutenant Morgan please," Jensen requested before finally making eye contact with Jared.

"Morgan? It's Jensen Ackles. Jared and I are in Anderson's lab — what?" Jensen was momentarily startled. "No, we had a key. Look. We found a body —"

  
 _A Scene of Exhumation, Occurring far too early on December 27th_  
 _  
_  
Packing crates were found as far away as possible from the ragged hole in the floor. Jensen had arranged himself on them and was holding Jared tightly to him. Jared, in turn, held onto Icarus while New York's Finest finished off Jared's demolition work to reveal the skeleton underneath.

A pile of cloth made its way into Jared's line of vision.

"Well, it's a skeleton because whoever put the body in covered it with lye," the pile said in Morgan's voice. "They knew what they were doing, and they threw in a cane and a suitcase, too."

When neither commented, the pile was tossed into a police box, and Morgan sat heavily next to Jensen. "That's what's left of the suitcase. All I've got is a belt buckle with initials 'DWR' on it."

He nudged Jared, who looked him reluctantly in the eyes. Morgan's face was sympathetic but determined. "Years ago — that case you worked. The fella that wanted to kill Anderson was Roseberg, wasn't it?"

Jared continued to pet Icarus, realizing that Morgan wasn't going to let him ignore the case now that it was unpleasant. He sighed and admitted, "Yeah, he claimed that Anderson had stolen some chemical equation from him. It was a bogus claim, Anderson proved it in court. Roseberg got sore and threatened him. I helped track him down, and last I heard, he was in jail."

Morgan took up the tale, "So he gets out, comes here, Anderson kills him. Leighton knows about it; she's cheating on him and possibly blackmailing him. So he kills her. Our friend, Lea, catches him at that and gets bumped off, too."

Jensen held on tighter as the coroner came over to inform them the skeleton was previously an adult male and probably Caucasian. The coroner was very soft-spoken and accustomed, no doubt, to dealing carefully with survivors.

"I'll know more when we get it cleaned up. But there's this -" An evidence bag was displayed. "Bullet from a 38. Judging from it's position under the remains, I'm guessing it was in the torso when he died and is your cause of death."

"Same caliber that killed Leighton Meester," Morgan noted.

The coroner nodded and continued. "He's also got older shrapnel in his knee."

Morgan looked back to Jared. "I've got no other story to tell the district attorney. Anderson's all I got."

Not getting a reaction, he looked up to Jensen. Jensen's arms tightened around Jared once more, and Jared was almost sorry he couldn't see his face, as the expression on it made Morgan take a step back. Jared stood up, and Jensen followed.

"If you don't mind, Morgan," Jared said, "I'm going to take Jensen home. This whole incident has put us terribly behind on our drinking."


	7. Wherein Jared and Jensen Have Had Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Containing scenes of thought collection and place settings  
> December 27, 1934

_A Scene ~~over Breakfast~~ , ~~over Dinner~~ , over a meal, Occurring on the morning of December 27th_

Jared awoke to the smell of steak and severe sense of time disorientation from the holiday and odd sleuthing hours. The clock informed him that it was nine of the clock, but he was uncertain which nine it was. Jensen's absence was duly noted, so Jared got up and went looking for husband and steak.

He found both in the kitchen area and an alarming sight they made. The steak itself was accompanied by a beer, which made it respectable, but there was only one of each left. Jensen was still in the formal wear from the night before, although the tie and jacket were no longer in play. He had also rolled up the sleeves of the shirt and was now deceptively quiet and sipping his coffee.

Jared was not fooled by the seeming calm and approached with caution. He would normally have just returned to bed and waited out what was obviously a deadly serious contemplation, but the last sirloin and beer beckoned. Jensen was studiously ignoring both his presence in the doorway and sirloin on the setting opposite him. The trap was set, and they both knew it was just a matter of time.

Jared sighed loudly in defeat and sat at the setting laid for him. Jensen pretended to just notice him.

"Oh, good, you're up."

"Yes. The bed was cold. Did you ever go to sleep?"

Jensen shrugged and sipped his coffee ambiguously. "I napped."

Jared suspected it to be a clever code for falling asleep at the table, but the steak was cooked to perfection and could not be risked. Jensen smiled at him, as he could not contain several pleased noises.

"Is it morning or night? And what day is it?"

"It's morning. The papers claim that it's December 27th, but after the past couple of days, I'm not sure I trust them to get the facts straight."

Jared suddenly spotted a set of train tickets under the steak's plate. Suspiciously, he pulled them out to look. Sure enough, the steak had only been bait, and the trap was sprung.

"Back to California?" Jared asked, surprised despite himself.

"Yes," Jensen answered in an annoyed tone. "I wanted you to play detective and find a missing father. Instead, you bring me three dead bodies."

Jensen's mouth smirked to take the sting from the words. "I'm beginning to think people are lying about what a swell detective you were."

"That's not fair! You said to find Anderson, and find Anderson I did."

Jensen's confusion only lasted a moment. Eyes widening, he realized, "Oh, no. You're saying that skeleton last night — ?"

Jared took another bite of sirloin and nodded, considering the trip to California canceled. Jensen started to ask something but instead shook his head. "No. I don't want to know. We are going back to California."

He got up and went into the bedroom. Jared hurriedly ate more of his steak and gulped some beer before following him. Jensen already had the suitcases out on the bed.

"But you were right!" Jared tried. "This was like Uncle Peter — I think. Hey, you never said, was your mother right?"

Jensen smiled at the memory, "Yes and no. He was having an affair, all right, but it was with the butler, not the secretary — and start packing."

Jared grinned in approval of Uncle Peter but leaned against the door in defiance anyway. "Well, it's like Uncle Peter, then. Anderson's trail of bodies is real enough; it's just that the first body was his own. It's never made any sense. Anderson wouldn't have killed Leighton for cheating or embezzling from him. She's done that for years. He doesn't care about scandal. He'd have turned her over to the cops."

The packing stopped, and the nod to continue came, despite Jensen's best effort to stop himself. Jared hurried to fill in the rest. "The same reasoning applies to Roseberg. If Anderson killed him, it was self defense. There was no reason to cover it up. Leighton wouldn't blackmail him over such a thing; he was already providing."

"And you're sure?"

"Anderson had shrapnel from the war." Jared shrugged to indicate it was of no consequence at all. "A weather leg to tell him when it was going to rain."

"From the war," Jensen repeated, dubious of the shrug.

Jared wasn't willing to vouch for the shrug's veracity under oath and idly played with the suitcase strap instead. "We were in the hospital together. It's how we met originally. It's why he trusted me when he needed help with Roseberg."

Realizing all pretense was lost, he played the only ace he had left. He looked Jensen square in the eye and explained, "I can't leave now."

Jensen sighed, but Jared could tell he'd won because Jensen looked almost amused. "So who did it?"

Jared was forced to admit he didn't know. Several people were auditioning for the role, and none of them fit well. Mimi, the viper, wanted money, but Anderson dying first made the next two murders unnecessary and left her no closer to the cash. Milo was just as screwy as his old man but had no real incentive to kill. Plus he'd stood up when it counted for Vanessa and Jared found himself warming to him. Baldwin, the mobster ex-husband, was capable but had no reason — even Vanessa and Mac were acting as if they had something to hide.

Jensen laughed as he put away the suitcases and listened to Jared's suspect list. "Now _there's_ a dinner party."

His laugh died as he returned from the dressing room to find Jared gazing adoringly at him. "What's with you?"

  
"You're amazing and brilliant," Jared enthused, pulling him for a kiss.

 _A Scene about Planning the Perfect Dinner Party, Occurring on the afternoon of December 27th_

Morgan was apparently a frustrated maitre d and surprisingly eager to commit to coordinate with the Ackles for a dinner party. Jared was touched by the trust and a little guilty, as Morgan was not in the know about Anderson being dead. The handsome detective was proving to be a real friend, and Jared felt bad about deceiving him.

So he had, of course, left it to Jensen. Jensen, accustomed to having boards of trustees do things his way, had convinced Morgan that Anderson could only be hiding with assistance. A dinner party was, to be sure, the best way to reveal who was hiding which secret.

Jared didn't know if Morgan actually believed it would work, but he only had everything to gain, and Jared would be left covering the loss if it didn't work. Jensen pointed out that while Jared would be the one holding the bag, Morgan still would have had the free meal. Jensen and Morgan seemed far more amused than Jared thought the idea warranted. But Morgan had insisted on attending to the details and ordered them to go count some sheep.

Having no interruptions other than the scheduled wake up call, and not suffering the after effects of a martini attack, the Ackles found seven hours more than enough time to catch up on sleep, meals, and other domestic activities. Jared was particularly fond of the bathing, as the Astor had been convinced to procure a tub big enough for him, although how they'd gotten it into the room remained a mystery. Having refreshed themselves, body and soul, the Ackles donned their best coat and tails one last time.

Jared tried, with a modicum of success, not to view the clothes as a battle uniform. This was always the worse part of any case, where all the secrets had to be turned over, where people became the ugly beasts. The silk and satin against his skin felt like a balm, an assurance that there was a civilized world awaiting his return. Jensen helped him with his tie and pulled his head down for a kiss on the nose.

"Stop brooding," his husband commanded. Jared found himself ridiculously reassured and grinning as Jensen solemnly informed Icarus he would be staying in the room. Icarus showed no desire to leave his bones for silly human drama and studiously ignored his masters as they locked up and returned downstairs.

Once there, Jared stood by his original assessment. As a maitre d, Morgan had found his true calling and had the hotel staff jumping. The smallest dining room had been dismissed, and one with more control had been arranged at the expense of the Elk's Club. Problems with staffing were solved with aplomb with reinforcements from Morgan's squad room. The more burly forms pulled at the Astor's uniforms in ways that made Jensen wince, but Jared found the entertainment factor greater than the fashion affront.

Jared patiently explained the importance of the white gloves to a grateful immigrant from the Bronx while Jensen helped Morgan with his tie. The lieutenant had cleaned up rather nicely in a tux jacket, but the tie resisted all efforts. Jared noted that all earlier embarrassments were forgotten and Morgan was accepting Jensen's assistance gratefully. "Why can't they just work like a normal tie?"

Jensen fixed the errant neckwear and complimented the arrangements. "You're a great help to a host. I'm going to have you do all my parties."

Jared added, "How's the party list coming?"

Morgan smiled with an alarming satisfaction. "Oh, they'll be here. All of them. I've got most of Manhattan out looking — I had a surprising number of volunteers to go track down the various players and provide transportation."

Jared nodded in sympathy. "Case like this is bad enough to ruin Christmas, but no one wants New Year's ruined by rich folk who can't stop murdering each other."

Jensen feigned indignation. "There now, old son. Some of us rich folk, yourself included, are perfectly capable of getting through the holiday without murder."

The gentleman from the Bronx heard him and gave him a resounding slap on the back. "Oh, we like _youse_ just swell. It's just them _weirdos_."

He continued on his mission, which appeared to be setting the forks to the right, without another glance. Jared laughed at Jensen's expression while picking up the place cards. "C'mon, Rich Boy," he chided. "Let's make this interesting."

He moved to the head. "Convention aside, darling, I think I'll take the head opposite Morgan. He's better able to see everyone from there and stop any funny business. You'll be on my right."

"At your side as always," Jensen said agreeably, causing the more cynical surrounding staff to roll their eyes and the more romantic to swoon slightly. Jared glared at the more romantically inclined as Jensen went around the table to set his card. They continued on opposite sides, filling in the seating. "Mac can go on my left, and we'll put ladies to the side of you both."

"Mimi sits next to Mac," Jensen responded quickly. "I don't get the impression she likes him."

Jared smiled and set the place card down. "Vanessa next to you, then, if that's how we're doing it. I'll put Zac over here by Mimi; you put Milo next to Vanessa."

Jensen lips pursed in disapproval of the arrangements on his side. "You think Zac will still be on the outs, then?"

Jared shook his head, "I just hope she shows up alone. Not judging, but her family has a — _distinctive_ — response to stress. And she's determined to emulate the old man."

Jensen's eyes once again took a dim view of not telling anyone about Anderson's deceased status, but the sharp mind and wicked mouth kept silent within earshot of Morgan. Jared appreciated it, as Morgan would definitely have a strong objection to withheld information and might derail the festivities before they started.

Jensen stared at Milo's placecard for the moment and then agreed. "From here, I won't be able to see him clearly, and he'll be away from Mimi."

Morgan came over to check their progress in time to hear the last exchange. "Mimi won't agree to it. She likes her children under her thumb."

  
Jensen's eyes lit up. "Even better."

Morgan eyed Jensen appraisingly as Jared complied. "I wouldn't have pegged _you_ as the bloodthirsty one."

Jensen merely smiled and stood expectantly at the vacant seat next to Milo's. "Mrs. Lea," Jared instructed. "She of the flying frying pans."

He looked over at Morgan's chuckle. "I'm relying on you to keep the dishes on the table, good sir."

Morgan's laughter filled eyes made no promises. "Put Baldwin on the other side of me," he instructed instead.

Jensen pulled up short. "Baldwin? The thug who _shot_ you? Why is he coming? He was cleared."

Jared nodded. "And I don't think that will change, but he's in the middle of it with me and must have something to contribute. We'll put him between Zac and Morgan. You'll be able to keep an eye on him, too."

The table was evenly set but required more women or fewer men to be considered completely proper. Still, Jared suspected that wasn't the reason for the glare Jensen was directing at him.

Jensen took a drink from the cocktail tray and idly worried the olive on the stem. "I can't take the suspense. Which one did it? I wish you'd tell me."

"I wish you'd tell _me_ ," Jared retorted emphatically. "Damned if I know. But someone among them must have, and if we bang them all together hard enough, the lies are bound to tell us something."

Morgan sighed. "I approve of the theory, but that's a big risk. People, in my experience, don't appreciate the dirty laundry being aired — especially in front of a dinner party."

Jared's mouth twisted. "Which is why I can take the risk, and you, a public officer, can't. But I do appreciate the support."

Jensen frowned so fiercely at Baldwin's place card that Morgan felt the need to go deliver a last inspiration to his men and left them alone. Jensen raised his eyes to Jared's own, and the sight made Jared's chest ache. He was suddenly aware that Jensen had always understood Jared's reluctance and had qualms of his own now beginning.

Jared sighed and walked around the elegantly set table to demand comforting. He promised himself that someday he would express proper gratitude for the gift that was his husband. Until then, he would happily settle for someone at his back in times like this. He pulled Jensen in and kissed him on the nose. "Stop brooding."

It took a moment, but the resonance from earlier finally pulled a smile from Jensen. They grinned at each other and moved to refresh their drinks and take their places to wait for a murderer to come to dinner.


	8. Wherein Jared and Jensen Catch a Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Containing the payoff after far too much discussion  
> December 27, 1934

_A Scene Detailing The Ackles Dinner Party, Occurring at Dinnertime on December 27th_

Jared felt it a good omen that martinis arrived before the guests, although he felt more than one would have been a better portent. As it was, he'd barely gotten past the olive before loud protests in the hall announced Mrs Lea's arrival. Jared murmured her name and Jensen rose to greet her at the door.

"Let go of my arm! I ain't done nothing! You can't —" She cut off at the sight of Jensen, who was staring slightly, having never met a professional frying pan juggler before.

"Hello," she said, managing to convey all sorts of greeting into the two syllables. She studied Jensen's delighted face for a moment and gave a wry laugh. "Well, don't it figure. Say, help a girl out anyway, pal? Tell this lug to let go. I don't want —"

She cut off at the sight of Jared. "Oh, it's _you_."

The cocktail tray was being rudely ignored. Jared remedied that and offered, "We just wanted to have dinner with you, sugar."

"Don't you 'sugar' me, sugar. I'm Gillian. If you think I'm gonna talk, you're crazy. Lea was a stoolie, but look what it got him! Shot in the street. No, thank you, brother! I ain't got nothing to say to you!"

She continued to say nothing at him at higher and higher decibels as Jensen showed her to her seat. She looked over at Morgan standing behind his chair and at Jensen as he moved to reclaim his own seat.

"You're down there?" she asked Jensen, who indicated with a toast that he was. She turned to Morgan. "You're carrying."

Morgan moved his jacket to acknowledge it. "Where are you sitting?"

Happy to have him at her side, Gillian stopped ignoring the cocktail tray and settled in.

"Hello," she said to Morgan in the exact same tone she'd used on Jensen earlier.

"I'm a cop, you know," Morgan stated amicably.

"What's that to me? I know what this is. This is a poke at someone who shoots when you poke 'em. I'm sticking to you or the rich boys."

She shared a warm smile with Jensen. Jared looked over from the door and reminded his husband, "You won't walk or feed her any more than I do Icarus."

Jared opened the door and found another guest in the form of a frantic and worried Zac. His fashionable suit had been criminally neglected in apparent haste to get to the dinner. Zac's wild eyes locked onto Jared. "Hey, is Vanessa here? Have you found her?"

"No, but she'll be here. Don't worry. Say, what you need is a drink."

Jared pulled Zac to the sidebar and waited until he'd had one cocktail and a second in hand before leaving him. Jensen stood as Baldwin entered.

The mobster hadn't lost his good humor. He glared at Morgan. "Ain't you boys tired of picking me up yet?"

Morgan indicated the seat opposite Gillian. "Have a seat. Have you met Mrs. Lea?"

"We've met," said Mrs. Lea, smiling winningly at her next meal. "I don't expect you'd remember someone like me."

Baldwin seemed willing to negotiate. "Oh, yes, I remember you. My sincere condolences. I understand you've been a victim of our violent city."

They got a drink together and settled into rather rapid discussion about the care and feeding of one Gillian Lea. Morgan did his best to ignore it.

Jensen had moved to the door. Although he hadn't completely relaxed in Baldwin's presence, he seemed to trust Gillian's ability to keep him tame. Mimi and Milo entered next. Mimi kept insisting that she and Milo couldn't be bothered with a silly dinner party. Jensen took hold of one end of her stole and spun her until she was out of it. A quiet Milo handed over his coat and hat with no trouble. Jensen smiled at him and indicated Gillian and Baldwin.

"You'll be seated next to Gillian over there. I'd appreciate it if you'd make us aware of any violent tendencies you may observe from Mr. Baldwin. He's had them before."

Milo nodded as if it were a sacred duty. "Will Vanessa be here? She hasn't come home —"

Zac jumped into the conversation at that point, questioning when Vanessa left. Mimi once again voiced her objection to the night's festivities. "But we have theater tickets!"

"That's all right," Jensen assured her. "Jared's putting on a little show of his own."

Jared decided another cocktail was in order if he was expected to be entertaining. He arrived at the bar in time to meet Mac.

"What's all this, then?" the lawyer asked as he took in the gathering.

"I'll let you know as soon as I've pieced it together. But we've got all the players; the game's more likely to be seen now."

Mac started to say something else, but the party was interrupted by Vanessa's arrival.

She was _not_ wearing appropriate attire — for any sort of respectable party. Jared heard Jensen curse as he went past and got to the door while everyone else stood in shock. "Vanessa, darling," Jensen crooned. "Thank you for coming."

"Well, the cop said it was a party," Vanessa slurred, although Jared wasn't entirely convinced she was drunk. "And that sounded swell, but it interrupted a very important moment in my life. I was about to take my first false step."

A slick-looking character entered behind her with another detective. The detective announced, "We caught these two at Penn Station about to make a run for it."

  
"A run for it?" The character looked alarmed. "Hey, now, she didn't say anything about being on the run. We were just having some fun."

"What kind of 'fun', exactly?" growled Zac from the man's elbow. Jared was impressed. He hadn't even seen Zac move.

Neither had the newcomer, from the startled looks he was giving his elbow. "Who the hell are you?"

"Exactly."

Vanessa ignored them both, took the drink from Jensen and allowed herself to be herded to her seat. Milo reached out and pulled her place card next to his and earned a smile from Jensen. Milo put an arm around his sister and glared at the newcomer.

The newcomer gave Jensen a hesitant smile. "Now, look, brother, I don't want any trouble. I was just looking for a laugh, you know? They said we were invited. I ain't looking to crash."

Jensen smiled back reassuringly, although Jared could tell how dangerous it really was. "Don't be silly! There's plenty of room," he purred as he motioned for the hotel staff to add a setting between himself and Vanessa. "Her brother and fiancé are just protective. What did you say your name was?"

  
"I — Chad. I'm Chad Murray. Did you say fiancé?"

"No, he didn't because I'm not getting married," Vanessa declared. "So there."

"I'm heading out of here," Zac murmured to Jared.

"Don't be silly," Jared said. "She's just hurting. Stay."

"If I stay, I'm going to take a pop at him."

"Then I _insist_ you stay. Go sit by Morgan and Baldwin. They'll keep you busy and out of jail."

The devil was back in Jensen's grin, and he settled in next to Chad Murray. "Mimi, you'll miss the crab cakes."

Mimi had gone to the door and was stopped by one of Morgan's men. The rest of the party watched with interest as she was unceremoniously escorted to her chair. The remaining diners were a mixed crowd, but they weren't lacking in deductive reasoning, and no one else attempted to leave.

"Dinner is served." the maitre d announced without so much as a raised eyebrow at the guests. The Astor had seen stranger mixes.

The guests all found their seats and judged them on the ability to glare across at one another. Jensen leaned over to Jared. "You give such nice dinner parties, Mr. Ackles."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Ackles. As a man noted for his own parties, I take that as high praise."

"Oh, stop this nonsense," Mimi demanded. "Tell us why we're here."

"We're here because I have important news," Jared said as he flourished his napkin to his lap. "Sam Anderson didn't kill anyone. Not Leighton Meester, not Nicolas Lea, not Doug Roseberg — no one."

Several conversations erupted at once. Mimi declared it impossible, as the papers all said Anderson was the murderer. Vanessa and Milo professed their shock, while Zac got in a deserved 'I told you so.' Baldwin and Gillian thought it very likely a setup of some sort. Murray once again wanted to know what type of dinner party this was.

"Quiet!" Morgan hollered to great effect. "Let him have his say. What makes you think it's not Anderson?"

All eyes turned expectantly towards Jared, who squeezed Jensen's hand for support. "I saw Anderson last night. He couldn't have —"

"That's nothing, I saw him myself," Mimi announced.

"What?" Morgan subdued all the other conversations again. He glared at Mimi and barked, "When did you see him?"

"Last night. He came by to check on myself and the children."

  
"What was he wearing?"

"Er — a brown suit and hat. With a red spotted tie."

Jared looked at her with disbelief. Milo laughed and said, "He was wearing a green suit when I saw him in my crystal."

Morgan glowered his best grim suppressor at Milo. "Don't start."

Jensen waved to the serving staff. "Serve the nuts."

At Jared's look, he grudgingly amended, "I mean, please serve _the guests_ the nuts."

Jared wasn't convinced, but he turned his attention to Mimi. "You're lying," he said flatly, no longer in the mood for pleasantries.

Jensen chimed in, "You see, my dear, we really did find him last night."

Morgan burst out, "What's the idea holding that out on me?"

"You saw him yourself," Jared sighed, hating this next part. "That was his body buried in the shop."

At Milo and Vanessa's outburst, Jared winced and tried to explain. "I'm sorry to have to break it to you that way, but he _is_ dead — he's been dead for three months."

Vanessa curled into Milo and let out a sob. Murray rubbed her back until Jensen pointed out that he had something on his coat. As they attended to the stain only Jensen could see, Zac got up and came over to Vanessa. He and Milo were in the process of taking her from the table when Murray noticed.

"Here, now," Murray began, standing to face Zac and not noticing Jensen rising with him. "I'll take care of —"

He was cut off by an impressive right upper cut and fell to the floor unconscious. Jensen looked down at the floor and then expectantly at the grinning Jared. Jared took the hint and signaled to the staff in the doorway while Jensen put Zac in Murray's former chair. "Cleanup in the dining room, boys. Would you mind terribly removing that?"

  
Murray's removal should have evened out the seating again, but Zac had gone and destroyed it again. Jared wasn't suicidal enough to suggest that Jensen move next to Baldwin, so he instead sighed and looked around the table. "Ah, Mimi. I see the news hasn't affected your appetite."

"Why should it?" Mimi asked around a mouthful of salad. "I don't believe a word of it. What's your proof?"

  
"Well," Jared began, "the skeleton's got a piece of shrapnel in it's shin."

Morgan suddenly got caught up to the modified agenda. "Wait. If Anderson didn't do it, who did?"

Jared held his gaze. "The murderer is someone in this room."

Morgan got a grip on his service revolver and let a low whistle to indicate his appreciation for the stakes on this poker game. To Jared's left, Mac made a strangled noise and began to protest.

"Now see here, Padalecki. There are slander laws — "

"Don't worry, I won't sue you for using the wrong name," chirped Jensen with more than a little steel in his voice. Mac's protests died, and the serving staff brought out the entree to a silent party.

Milo broke first and asked for the others, "Well, aren't you gonna tell us who it is?"

"I don't know yet," Jared admitted. "But the answer's got to be here. I figure if we all got together, we're bound to figure it out."

He was interrupted by the arrival of salmon, which demanded immediate appreciation. The Astor had certainly done itself proud for a last minute engagement, and Jared couldn't stop the pleased noise he made as he took a bite of the yams.

He suddenly realized he was the focus of everyone and the only one eating. He turned to Jensen, who was amused.

"Great food, isn't it?"

"Yes," replied Jensen archly. "It's the best dinner I've ever _listened_ to — honestly."

Jared side-eyed him but got on with the show. "Baldwin," he started, "you knew Leighton well."

"Yeah, of course I did. We were married, weren't we? So?"

"So were you ever divorced?"

  
Baldwin broke out a grin genuine enough that, for a moment, Jared could see why the women kept agreeing with him. "No, I never signed any divorce papers. Leighton never asked me to until September."

"September? Why did she want a divorce then?"

Baldwin shrugged. "Anderson changed his will, and she had to make their marriage stand up."

Jared nodded as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. "Do you know — was she skimming from Anderson?"

  
"She never told me, but I figured she was."

  
"Why?" asked Morgan.

Baldwin shrugged. "Once, I needed five thousand cash in a hurry. Leighton gave it to me like that." He snapped his fingers. "It helped me out of a jam, so I didn't ask how, but I knew she had to have gotten it from Anderson. And she turned it over without asking."

"Do you know if Anderson knew?"

"Dunno, he was plenty sore when he came to see her and I was there. But he didn't mention money in front of me."

"He knew," offered Gillian, her eyes darting all over the room. "My fella heard the row Sam Anderson and Leighton had after you left. Anderson was asking if Baldwin was the one she split fifty thousand with —"

"Fifty thousand?" Jensen asked.

"The bearer bonds," Milo said suddenly. "She must have taken the bearer bonds." He looked at Vanessa. "Father always said he had bearer bonds to give us."

Vanessa blinked at him as she tried to process it. "Yes, that's right. I was supposed to get mine — " She cut off and looked to Zac. "When I got married. Oh god, it's my fault! He went looking for them after we — "

She broke down sobbing, and Zac continued. "The night her father left — was killed — whatever happened — we'd been to see him. We told him about the engagement and asked him to give Vanessa away. He said yes and spoke about arranging a wedding present — but I never thought — "

Jared turned his attention back to Gillian; there was nothing he could do for Vanessa but to figure this out. "Anderson said Leighton split the money with someone?"

Gillian gulped nervously and got up to get another drink. Baldwin seemed taken with the idea of being cast as a knight errant and moved over to Zac's vacated seat so she could hide behind him and Morgan. Jared smiled at the restored seating balance, and Jensen was at least pleased that Jared was pleased with it.

With a final distressed look around, Gillian finally nodded. "Leighton said she had only ever gotten twenty five thousand. So the other half went to someone else."

That certainly opened some possibilities, and Jared was reviewing them when he realized Jensen was shaking his elbow. The entire party was staring at him in expectation.

"You're driving me crazy," Jensen complained. "So _who did it_?"

Jared laid it out. "So the night he was killed, Anderson wanted the bearer bonds and discovered Leighton had taken them. He worked out that she couldn't have done it on her own. He went to see Leighton and either got her to spill or confirm who her accomplice was.

"He left her apartment to go confront this man — who was staring prison in the face and took the only way out. He killed Anderson. But then our hero showed how clever he was. You'd understand about clever murders, wouldn't you, Milo?"

The nodding and pleased expression faded as the implications sunk in. "What? No! I mean, just understanding — You don't think I — "

The tidy young man began looking around at the others, finally realizing the impression he gave. "Now see here —"

The spluttering confirmed Jared's assumption that Milo was disturbing but not a killer. Besides, he was handling Vanessa tenderly and might not be a bad sort away from Mimi.

Jared resumed the story. "The killer planned the whole thing beautifully. After killing Anderson, he telegraphed Mac here with instructions to close the lab and offices."

"Which I did," Mac agreed.

"Naturally. You couldn't confirm anything in person; you'd have to go through Leighton. This made Leighton an accessory after the fact, which kept her silent and made her a patsy for our hero. Then he destroyed the body with lye but hung onto the watch chain, figuring something that unique would come in handy.

"He even put in a suitcase full of new clothes and a belt buckle with Roseberg's initials in with the body. If it was discovered, he hoped to throw the police off the track. It worked too —"

"You can skip that part," Morgan interrupted dryly.

Jensen leaned over and whispered, "Is any of this true?

"I dunno."

"Then why are you saying it?"

"It's the only way it makes sense!" Jared protested.

"Yes, but _who did it?_ " Jensen turned wistful. "Was it me? I feel very murderous right now."

The restless guests and their scrutiny made Jared's tie nervous. He undid it over Jensen's protesting noises and returned to his tale, knowing there was no other way out but through it for them all now.

"Yes, well, after our hero had covered up the murder, he realized he'd more than gotten away with it. He realized he and Leighton could continue collecting money. Anderson was supposed to be out of town, after all.

"The only one who would know better was Leighton. He just sent phony telegrams to Leighton so she could get money from Mac. He even telephoned Mac. Remember? The morning of the murder when you were with us — "

Jensen and Jared shared a look as Mac confirmed. "That's right, he left a message with my service to meet him at the Plaza but never showed."

A look of perfect understanding passed between Jared and Jensen. Jared felt a sense of pride in his husband and couldn't stop the grin as he returned his attention to the dinner.

"And wasn't he slick about that? He never spoke to anyone who actually knew what Anderson sounded like. The call could have been placed by anyone. That same day, Leighton had telephoned him. Seems they'd forgotten something — the monthly stipend to Mimi. Mimi — why did it take so long for you to ask?"

Mimi had begun continually twisting her napkin in consternation. "What? Oh, that. Do you think I _wanted_ to talk to that tramp? I would have never — that is, I had to! I'd run out of what Sam gave us before he left. What else could I do?"

A strangled noise protesting the rights of freeloaders escaped Jensen, and Jared squeezed his knee under the table. "Our killer panicked. For some reason, he thought Leighton was likely to give it up — "

"Mother told her she didn't believe Father hadn't told her about the stipend and would call the police," Milo offered.

Mimi slammed the table. "Milo! How did you — you eavesdropped on the extension!"

"Well, of course," Milo agreed. "What else is an extension for?"

And that settled the matter for Jared. Milo was more than all right in his book.

"So there's that bit," Jared said letting his satisfaction show. "Convinced that Leighton would spill the beans if questioned by the police, our killer got to her before Mimi and shot her, leaving the watch chain in her hand. He wasn't nearly as lucky with this second murder, though.

"Lea was watching Leighton's place for dirt on Baldwin. He saw the killer enter and tried his hand at blackmail. Instead, our fella bumped him off, too. But then Lady Luck smiled on him again. With Leighton and Lea dead, everyone still thought Anderson was alive. He had the perfect patsy for the murders. The police — "

"Skipping that part, remember," said Morgan, who was now lounging in his chair by all appearances. Jared was pleased to note, however, that the jacket had been removed to allow the service revolver a view of the feast. The additions to the wait staff were all now lined up at the bar, ready to serve at a moment's notice. Jensen had sometime during the speech moved his hand to Jared's knee, where it was possibly going to leave a bruise from the grip.

"There was, of course, one weak link. Telegrams and phone calls were all well and good, but no one had actually _seen_ Anderson and it was raising suspicion. So, now, Mimi," Jared said, able to let his true feelings show through, "why don't you tell us who told you to say you'd seen Anderson?"

Mimi's napkin was a wrinkled mass of cloth, but she stood her ground. "Nobody told me. I _did_ see him. The nerve! We do _not_ have to sit here — "

"I say you do," reminded Morgan pleasantly. "If you did see Anderson last night, you were aiding and abetting. I can arrest you now."

Mimi began to splutter. Sensing blood, Jared began to press. "What were you paid to stick to that story?"

"It isn't a story! I did see him! He isn't dead! I told him to turn himself in! I'm not an accomplice!"

"You're lying," Jensen said flatly. "You'd do anything for money to keep that —" her outfit and makeup was indicated with a disgusted wave, " — for yourself. Not to mention theaters and entertaining."

Jared beamed at his favorite apprentice and gladly accepted the pain as the hand now crushing his knee tightened more. Jensen could obviously see the ugliness about to come and was worried about Jared. But with Jensen there, Jared found there was no room for ghosts of war, only genuine sympathy for the lives about to be shattered.

"It's not her fault," he explained to Jensen, ignoring Mimi. "She's got a good price for saying he's alive, and she figures she's got nothing for saying he's dead."

"This is outrageous!" Mimi huffed.

"She's just not thinking it through," Jensen complained, also ignoring the viper's venomous glares. "Doesn't she realize what Leighton being Baldwin's wife means?"

Dead silence descended upon the diners as Jared and Jensen paused to sample the vegetables. Mimi looked from them to Baldwin and then back to the Ackles. She risked a quick glance to see if the other diners had suggestions, but if they did, they weren't offering them to her.

Curiosity finally overcame her lying and suspicious nature. "What do you mean?"

Jared looked to Mac. "You drew up Anderson's will, didn't you? Mimi was cut off in lieu of Leighton, wasn't she?"

"I've no right to answer," Mac said noncommittally.

"Yes, I was cut off," Mimi spat. "But that's no reason to lie!"

"Don't you see, Mimi?" Jensen demanded with exasperation. "In the eyes of the law, Anderson never remarried."

"You're just as much an heir as your children," Jared concurred.

"So what are you holding out for?" The Ackles men began talking over one another.

"A few crummy dollars that man gave you —"

"— when you could have an entire third?"

"And don't forget," Jared warned, "what happened to the others mixed up in this with him — Leighton and Lea. He _killed them_ when he thought they might break."

"He's not likely to take a chance on you. What's it going to be?"

"Enough! Stop it! Both of you!" Mimi screeched and turned towards Mac at her side. "You never said anything about murder! You slimy — "

Mac pulled a gun out from under the table, but Jared was already swinging. This time, he wasn't hindered by a stray husband. His fist caught the lawyer in the jaw and sent him backwards, causing him to discharge the gun into the air. Morgan's men subdued him as the rest of the guests let out various indications of disbelief.

Jensen stood and pulled him in for a passionate kiss which he returned in kind.

"So I'm forgiven for the bodies, I take it," Jared said when they parted.

"You are," Jensen said fervently. "You are, without a doubt, a very grand detective."

They kissed again and watched as the police took the killer away.

  



	9. Wherein Jensen and Jared Leave New York Before Anyone Else Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Containing the obligatory scene of plot reveal and innuendos of sexual hijinks and happily-ever-afters

_A Scene of Conjugal Bliss While California Bound, Occurring at Penn Station on December 30th, Midnight (or possibly Nine O'Clock)_

Jared knew Zac held Vanessa in his lap as he could see her hand. The rest of her was enveloped in Zac's over sized wool coat as, having newly acquired legal rights, Zac seemed inclined to exercise them. Judging from the happy sway of Vanessa's respectable legs, she didn't seem inclined to promote the suffrage rights at the moment. The new gold band and diamond ring on her finger danced in the light.

"I feel like I've woken from a nightmare," Zac's coat said in awe.

Jensen reached across the table and put a champagne flute in her hand. The Ackles and the Efrons were comfortably situated in Union Pacific's first class dining car; their troubles packed away with their luggage at the far end of the train. All that remained was the stroke of midnight to begin the railway journey to Chicago, where the Efrons would honeymoon. The Ackles would leave them to it and go on to California, where Jared intended to resume his life of a kept husband.

Jensen passed out the remaining flutes while Vanessa struggled to escape the wool coat. "Darling, let me up," she giggled, sloshing the champagne precariously. "I'm going to spill it."

Such dire forebodings were banished as Jared grabbed her flute with a free hand and held it as she and Zac settled on a manner of cuddling more conducive to champagne. Once restored to her glass, Vanessa proposed a toast to their very selves, which was loudly carried by them all. "To us!"

The Union Pacific agreed with the sentiment and let loose a long blast. Having a long standing tradition of not allowing the trains in their lives to outdo them, Jensen and Jared immediately responded with a loud _whoo!_ of their own, accompanied by Icarus. Both Efrons laughed at their antics, but the train responded as a well trained train should and began the slow jarring momentum building departure from the station. Pleased with their efforts, the Ackles clinked glasses in celebration and downed their flutes in mirroring motions, heads tilted full back and glasses lightly held.

Zac and Vanessa attempted a similar trick with less success, as champagne apparently made Zac giggle but they had plenty of time ahead of them to work on it. Vanessa sighed and leaned against her husband while looking across to Jensen. "What was it like yesterday? Did he say anything?"

She was referring to Mac's arraignment, which Zac and Jensen had attended while Jared and Vanessa had attended to the happier matter of securing a justice of the peace for the civil marriage ceremony. After the week's events, they had decided on a quiet legal affair attended by Milo, Jared, and Jensen.

Jensen smiled and assured her, "I'm sorry, there wasn't much to it. He got into an argument with your father and shot him in the back. He died instantly. He killed Leighton to keep her from telling Mimi and Lea to keep from paying the blackmail, just like Jared said. There wasn't anything else relevant."

Vanessa burrowed into Zac for comfort as her husband held Jensen's eyes and smiled broadly. Jared knew from his own earlier discussion that Jensen was leaving out that Anderson had realized that Mac had to be the one in it with Leighton and had physically confronted the lawyer. Mac claimed his half of the bond money had kept the company afloat after The Crash, but Anderson had been livid. He had been storming out to go to the police when Mac had grabbed the gun. Anderson had apparently laughed at the idea of Mac, of all people, being a killer and had turned his back on him to leave.

Jensen apparently found those facts irrelevant, and Jared was not inclined to disagree.

"How did you ever figure it out?" Vanessa asked, beginning to let go of the matter. Jared was well pleased to let his apprentice explain, as they had both realized at the same time that Mac was involved.

"It was when Jared was outlining how the killer made everyone believe your father was in hiding. He said Leighton was saying she was in contact with him."

Vanessa nodded. "That's right."

Jensen shook his head. "But actually, she _hadn't_. _Mac_ claimed she was in contact with Anderson, but Leighton never actually spoke to anyone else directly about him. The morning your mother called her, Leighton realized what had been going on. She was smart enough to realize that when the truth came out, she'd be the first to take the rap for it.

"She called when she hung up with Mimi and probably demanded to see him. Before he went, he came to see us." Jensen made a face at his own trusting nature, and Jared reached an arm around him. Jared had liked Mac and was still stung at being used. It hurt oddly more than the thought that Mac could kill three people for money.

Vanessa's hand flew to her throat. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I'd told him I'd seen you and asked about Daddy —"

Zac squeezed the thought out of her. "This is not your fault."

Jensen was emphatic. "No. It's _not_. Mac stopped in the lobby of the Astor and called back to his office, pretending to be your father. Then he came up to see Jared to make sure he wasn't looking for Anderson and to have him as a witness that he was leaving to the Plaza to meet him."

Jared took over the storytelling duties to allow Jensen to attend to the champagne. "He went straight from us to Leighton. We'll never know exactly what happened, but he killed her and got spotted by Lea on the way out. He hoofed it over to the Plaza and made a show of waiting around for your pop until the police arrived with news about Leighton.

"He tried to keep the illusion going with more telegrams and phone calls. When I got shot — " Here Jared had to pause to soothe Jensen, who made angry noises at the memory.

"When Baldwin came to see us," he continued more diplomatically, "Mac was certain I'd get involved. So he sent a telegram telling me to investigate Leighton's murder and report back _through Mac_."

"Your mother cinched it, though," Jensen said, allowing Jared to attend to his own champagne and convince Icarus to yield the tickets as the porter appeared to punch them. "There wasn't anyone else who could have convinced her to lie or had access to the kind of money it would take to keep her lying."

Vanessa shuddered, and Zac indicated with a stern glance that the conversation had reached its natural conclusion and was to be put to bed. Jensen must have found it a capital idea because he yawned broadly and asked for the time.

"Just after nine," Jared answered, pouring another round of champagne to Zac's slight dismay.

"Nine?" Jensen asked. "How does that work on the _midnight_ express?"

"I've set my watch to California time and have left New York behind," Jared explained with a glass clink.

"Still, nine," Zac said with a mighty yawn of his own. "Getting late."

"Yes," Jensen agreed. "Past all decent hours."

"But it's only _nine_ ," Jared protested, unwilling to give up fine company or fine champagne.

"It's after _midnight_ ," Jensen insisted turning to face him with an odd expression and a head tilt to the Efrons.

"But you see, we're heading west, so it's — "

"Is it _bed time_?" asked Vanessa with her trademarked puppy adoration.

Jared looked at the puppy and then the husband she was cuddled too. He blinked and looked at the newlyweds, enjoying their _wedding night_ , and was struck by the sudden thought.

"Oh! Yes. Er — " He felt a large yawn and gave into the urge. Everyone laughed.

Jensen pushed him out of the way and grabbed Icarus's leash. "Go on, you goof. Some detective — ' _It's only nine._ ' — How did you survive before you met me?"

Jared meekly allowed himself to be led to their cabin. The travelers' ballet began as they maneuvered into the space and lowered the beds. Jared sat on the lower bunk and held out his hands for Icarus.

"Give him to me, and he can sleep with me tonight. I'll get him settled while you get ready for bed."

Jensen's mouth grinned devilishly, and his eyes seconded the mischief. "To hell with that."

Jensen tossed Icarus to the top bunk and pushed Jared down in the same smooth motion. "After all, _it's_ _only nine_ —"

Icarus stretched out contentedly by himself on the top bunk as the train let out another _whoo!_ and sped through the darkness towards home.

 _fin_

[ ](http://gigglingkat.dreamwidth.org/339724.html)


	10. A Note From The Author

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Kat has still MORE to say: Scene containing far too much incoherent thought

**Source Material**  
For those that don't know - _The Thin Man_ movies were made in the 30s and 40s with William Powell and Myrna Loy - the first was based on a book by Dashiell Hammitt - who also created Sam Spade (the Humphrey Bogart character in _The Maltese Falcon_ ). He's a big name in the hard boiled detective genre. "Noir" was originally a sub-genre (although these days its usually considered the other way around).

The narration and Jared's inner voice owes more than a little to Rex Stout's _Nero Wolfe Mysteries._ It is its own separate beast. If you haven't seen the Timothy Hutton A&E Nero Wolfe series, you really should.

 

 **Universe Building - (Things that didn't make it into the fic)**  
Though it's not stated in the fic. Jensen is 34 (born 1900) and Jared is 30 (born 1904). This is the [layout for their hotel suite](http://pics.livejournal.com/gigglingkat/pic/00dz1q36). This is the table seating chart for the [Ackles Dinner Party](http://pics.livejournal.com/gigglingkat/pic/00dz2t50) in Chapter 7.

 **World War I service and the Flapper Culture** : For purposes of my fic, same sex marriage was legalized at the same time women got the right to vote and the movements were side-by-side and closely linked to one another. The movements would have started in the mid to late 1800s and the bill to give them rights was delayed by the US entering WWI.

Now in their thirties in the fic, Jared and Jensen grew up in the roaring 20s and both were very young veterans of World War I.

Jensen enlisted with his brother in 1918. His brother was killed in action during his first week in combat. Jensen's mother made the HUGE mistake of not listening to the Army and opening the casket. She had a nervous breakdown and his father has a fatal stroke that same month. Jensen was discharged without seeing any action to go home to care for her. He also found himself the head of a large family fortune which survives the Crash by way of excellent accountants and not a large presence on the stock market. The family is kinda nuts and appears in sequels. Jensen was by no means a stay at home smothered sensitive type - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3svvCj4yhYc -

Jared was in the Army Medical Corps and saw the fighting in the trenches. He came back after only 8 months of combat when the war ended. Suffering slightly from shell shock, he dropped plans to be a doctor and instead stumbled into a career as a detective. (To the disappointment of his father). He lived the playboy life as a private detective throughout the roaring 20s.

Speaking of the the Roarin' 20s - The Woman's Sufferage (Right to Vote) and the Marriage Reform Act both passed through Congress immediately following the war. So the generation Jensen and Jared belong to have had the right to wed for about 15 years at the time of the fic. It's accepted widely, if still a little uncomfortably by the older generation and extreme christian right. Jared meets Jensen in early 1929 on a case and they are married in early 1930. Jared is done with the private dectective's life and is learning the business from Jensen. Jensen was born rich and knows how to play it to his advantage. Jared has more street savvy which makes him a good partner.

 **The Dancing** : [The Charleston](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJC21zzkwoE). The sideways flat step is what I imagine Jared doing as he shakes the martini in the opener.  
[The Continental (You Kiss While You're Dancing)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Keqqegsd50E). J2's wedding dance song that I am totally making come out earlier than it did. And yes, they picked it just because you kiss every verse as part of the dance. It also helps that it's from a movie titled The Gay Divorcee.  
[More Charleston](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s58iTzznkp0) \- when they are drunk (read: nightly), Jensen will convince Jared to _attempt_ to dance like this. At the end of the first year, the estimated damage total was $14,000. Jared decided that marrying Jensen would at least consolidate the bill. But seriously, [Jensen knows the Charleston](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_4Rx9xHTNY) by way of the Blues Brothers. Jared would follow and then there would be structural damange.

 **The Title**  
For the longest time, this was simply "the j2 thin man fic". Then it was dubbed "Never Enough Words" - a joke about my exponentially increasing word count and a quote from their wedding vows. Stacy pointed out that no one was going to want to read a story that implied there were too many words in it. I realized she was right and finally settled on **Murder and Martinis** as it seemed everything I wrote was either someone dying or drinking. THANKS !

 **The Thank Yous and the Finger Pointing**  
So Mom and I watched AMC's Thin Man Marathon on New Years. Years ago, at EyeCon 1, I had the random thought that Jared and Sandy would make a perfect Nick and Nora Charles. But never felt the urge to write it. And every thing was FINE and happy in my world until New Year's when somehow a J2 AU version started to work its way into my brain. I started a google doc and opened a chat with Charlee and Sara.

There were long incomprehensible conversations about the difference between "noir" and the "hard boiled detective" genres. (Noir is bleaker and less overt humor. There's also a better than average chance that the main character dies.) I copy/pasted huge sections of wikipedia at them and got on some crazy rant about Flappers and Shell Shock (some of which still exists above - more of which somehow inspired [this fic](http://waterofthemoon.livejournal.com/422443.html) by ). And they STILL encouraged me.

Then poor Sara tried to help and we discovered that there is no such thing as "succinct" in this style. No matter what I did, the word count kept growing. I don't remember how I convinced Charlee to do the art, but I did and [it's so fucking fantastic, I don't even know](http://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com/811123.html). And I suddenly realized why the long fic authors have these pages. Because there's a story behind the story, and in many ways, it's crazier than anything you ever put in the fic itself.

 **THANK YOU, CHARLEE** and **THANK YOU, SARA** . Thank you for dutifully clicking all the links, for loving that it's Icarus, for reassuring me that you knew what the hell just happened, for saying that it was like Brick (!), for supporting me when plot suddenly decided it wanted in on the fun, for reminding me that summary is for the _story summary_ and not its own wikipedia entry, and for just plain _liking_ this insanity and encouraging me to keep going.

Thank you, Charlee, for my art. [My wonderful fabulous art.](http://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com/811123.html) Thank you for always saying "sure" when I asked for yet another thing - BLINKING! IT _BLINKS_! You went from a title card to a couple of banners to ten things - and I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!

 **Beta Credits**  
Sara beta'd most of this. And again, any remaining errors are most likely my stubborn nature rather than her skill. She was willing even knowing my love of italics and comma abuser history.

For a while, it didn't look like her own upcoming deadlines were going to let her finish. At the 11th hour, Katie stepped in to beta, and was beyond gracious when it turned out Sara _was_ going to finish. If you can tell that the story is in Jared's pov from the start, thank Katie!

Charlee and Sara were in the trenches with me for so long, _none_ of us could think objectively about it anymore. So I sent an SOS out to Ryn for another set of eyes and she answered the call tremendously. In sickness and in health, babe. **THANK YOU TOO, RYN!!!!**

Then I found out hezio2 KNOWS THE MOVIE! Your last minute cheerleading helped me through a dark spot there. Thank you!

I love all my betas and cheerleaders more than the fic. (Well, at least as much as the nose kisses.)

THANK YOU ALL.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Murder & Martinis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5708518) by [exmanhater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmanhater/pseuds/exmanhater)




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